Restoration
by Obvious Ghost
Summary: The storm has passed. Callaghan has been defeated, Abigail is safe- and Hiro Hamada holds a computer chip in his hand, hope rising like the sun. But grieving minds hide painful secrets, and desperation is an awful thing.


Part 1 of 2

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 **Three warnings. One: psychologically dark themes, centered around grief and accompanying mental health issues. And cursing, I suppose, but nothing that the 'T' rating can't handle.**

 **Two: this story will be mostly introspective moments and conversations, with little 'action', if any. If that seems too boring for your taste, then I can't say I blame you.**

 **Three: The bulk of the writing for this story was finished before the show premiered. But the outline of the plot- Hiro trying to bring Baymax back- is pretty much identical to the debut episode. So, unfortunately, certain elements are REALLY going to look like I either stole ideas from the show, or I'm trying to compete with it. I hope you can take it on faith that neither of those are true. The show's brilliant, in fact, and you should absolutely check it out. I guess this could be considered a canon-divergent fic? Or something. Whatever.**

 **(Three and a half: you can skip the chat logs, if you want. They're not terribly important. So if they're dragging on, and you're tired of dumb memes, you can just jump to the next part of the actual story. I'm leaving them in because I like them, and I wanted some levity, and I'm happy with how the jokes turned out- but again, if you want, go with my blessing.)**

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 _-May 05-_

 _-Just to be clear, I don't WANT to be writing this.-_

…

…

…

Time stops.

The first beginning is a moment, frozen, when the slanted orange of the October sunset pours through the window and makes the lab light up like a jack o'lantern, dust mites floating between the computers and past the workstation near the wall. His backpack is there, tossed carelessly on the rolling chair that won't stop squeaking; beyond that are printouts of second and third and fourth drafts of reports, projects, essays, exams, haphazardly strewn over the tables across from the door. The walls are full of posters- school announcements, reminders of deadlines, running tallies of table tennis tournaments and a schedule of who's responsible for locking up the room each night. There's a faint murmur from the hallway, of the last students hanging around the campus until rush hour dies down.

It's silent, otherwise, because the boy in the middle of the room is stock-still, unbreathing, hardly daring to blink, and the green piece of hardware in his hand is so light he can barely believe it exists at all.

'TADASHI HAMADA.'

His thoughts start and stop. It's all here, all of it, not just the procedures and source code- the memories, the personality, the friend who saved his life. Baymax isn't gone. Tadashi's work isn't lost.

It hits him like a physical pain, excited energy and happiness that bursts from a dark corner and tears down the foundations of what he _thought_ he was ready for, because he's been trying to move past it all, he really has, hoping to start a new life with his friends and the school and everything else- he just got out of class, even, and he only meant to grab a few things before he headed home, and if he turns he can still see the backpack only a few feet away where he let it fall when he wandered over here to Baymax's metal hand a few minutes ago _back when he didn't have the chip, before the whole world was different-_

It's making him shake, almost feeling dizzy, because he can do it. He knows he can. He knew it back when Tadashi showed him Baymax for the first time, that the real genius was in the chip itself, and everything else wasn't half as irreplaceable. The robot's just metal and wires, and he can re-create it. Myriad thoughts fly in different directions; were Tadashi's original research and blueprints lost in the fire? How much do the others know? Could the institute let him use the labs for something like this? Can he muster up even a fraction of Tadashi's work ethic and perseverance?

What if he gets it wrong?

The last one causes him to stop, and the thoughts- already pushed to the extremes of emotion- flip again. There's a fierce determination, now, and he can almost feel the excitement buzzing in his head and in his hands and racing on his skin, raising goosebumps all the way. Not only can he do it, but he realizes he _needs_ to. It's not even a question. He has the chance to get Baymax back, and he won't stop until he succeeds.

The whole world feels different.

The frozen moment shatters apart, and Hiro flies through the lab like a banshee. Tearing around corners, feeling like he's barely touching the ground, he bursts into the quiet dark of the main space, past the desks and tables neatly set up for tomorrow's classes, past personalized workstations and doorways leading to other areas of the building, past a few upperclassmen who are trying to watch a video on a smartphone screen, until he finds who he's looking for, because Wasabi is staying late, he _has_ to be, he's been staying late every night this week working on his next Applied Physics project, and if Hiro can't tell somebody about this soon, he's going to fly off into space-

"Whoa, slow down, little man."

Hiro knows he's going to remember that, the way Wasabi grins at him with an easygoing tilt of his head, and how that changes when all the words come out in a rush and he holds up the chip _he kept it in his hand, he saved it, he's still here_ and Wasabi just looks at him for a moment, not comprehending, and the light starts to dawn over his eyes at the exact moment that Hiro takes a deep breath and says more clearly:

"I can build him again."

It's a look, shock and wonder and euphoria, and it starts a gigantic hug and a flurry of excited phone calls and texts- _**are you busy, good, get to the Lucky Cat, we're all meeting- look Fred I refuse to call it 'defcon five' just get to the café already**_ _-_ because this news is too big to only share with one person. He feels like he's dreaming during the anxious ride in Wasabi's van back to the café- the trams would be too slow, but Wasabi's meticulous standard of following every traffic rule and guideline makes it seem like this is taking even longer.

 **-hiro can we at least call it a CODE**

 **RED EMERGENCY TEAM MEETING**

 **-if we call it that**

 **\- will you hurry up and go to the café**

 **-yee**

 **-alright fine**

And this is the second beginning, in the hectic energy of the restaurant, where the faint smell of baked dough and tired crowds and fruit and cream and chocolate all drifts overhead. There's the double-sized table in the corner with the coffee spill that never quite comes out, the booth where Mr. and Mrs. Takomo are loudly asking if the raspberry turnovers are made with _organically_ grown fruit, and the group of high schoolers near the window trying to make some kind of fort out of the napkin holders while recording the whole thing on their phones.

At the cash register, Cass Hamada is in the middle of three conversations, trying to apologize for the short delay to one customer, explaining the weekend specials to another, and attempting to parcel out exact change for a third. Her smile is professional, but tired, because she can handle the stress and bustle of a successful restaurant as well as the best of them, but that doesn't change the fact that she'll be thoroughly glad to sit down and relax with Mochi and a bowl of rocky road ice cream when this is all over.

And in the center of it all, she suddenly sees Hiro darting through the customers and maze of tables, and he hasn't even bothered to drop his backpack yet, scanning the building as if he's looking for someone.

He's been gone all day, and when she catches a break in the line of customers, she calls his name with a smirk- it'll only be a gentle reprimand, for not even saying hello when he finally came home. But when he turns, startled, with that look he has sometimes, the one where he's so focused he's forgotten anything else in the world even exists, she stops.

Because Hiro's smiling. He's beaming, a grin that seems to electrify his eyes and his nose and even his hair, more haphazard than usual, like he's so happy that it's trying to explode out away from him and make the rest of the room as joyful as he is. And the spark is excited, not nervous or stressed or frazzled, so unlike the way he's looked these last weeks. So when he scampers behind the counter and crashes into her with a hug, she can't even think of what she was going to ask him for a moment.

Somehow, it doesn't seem to matter.

She's finally able to stammer out a query about how the day went, and he brushes his hair away from his eyes with a barrage of chatter she doesn't recognize- something about a project for one of his classes, and working on something he thought he wouldn't be able to complete, and his friends are probably going to be over soon, and is it okay if they move two of the tables together near the jukebox so they can all fit, because no one ever sits over there anyway and he'll help her out with the café before and after so she has a little less work, he promises, so would that be okay, please?

Cass can't bring herself to do much more than say 'of course', and ruffle his hair the way he always complains about. He scowls, but he's still smiling, and almost immediately steps away to politely ask Mrs. Matsuda how she's doing today.

She breathes out, taking just a second to close her eyes.

The steady hum of the restaurant floats over her.

…

It's been such an awful month.

She doesn't think about it often- at least, not on purpose. She has to fight to keep from replaying the events in her head, over and over, and it usually doesn't do anything except make her more depressed. The fire, of course. The way Hiro had looked when she finally found him, terrified eyes shining with the blaring red lights of the emergency vehicles and the grisly orange coming from the building. The funeral. The pervasive, inescapable darkness that hung over the café for so long, and the uneaten plates of food she kept finding in Hiro's room.

The bizarre, gut-wrenching story that played out over the news only days ago, with the presumed-dead professor who was suddenly accused of terrorism and attempted murder, arrested and shunted back out of the public eye just as quickly.

(And the terrible, paranoid suspicion, that jolted her out of nightmares and into wild lucidity one night, the thought that there had been _six_ of them, those heroes who fought him off and saved lives in the center of the city, and the leader with the dark mask was so small, only a child's height- and Hiro was spending more and more time with Tadashi's friends- and her grief over losing her nephew was so strong, so palpable, and there was no way in heaven or hell that she could imagine Hiro throwing himself into danger day after day- and she had to push away that worry, had to tell herself that it simply wasn't possible, that she was jumping to conclusions. After all, the sixth figure was some kind of hulking robot, and she'd never seen anything like it before. More importantly, Hiro was impulsive and stubborn, but he wouldn't do something like this. He couldn't. And she would only drive herself crazy if she let her fear get the better of her common sense. He's only fourteen.)

But suddenly, only days ago, she saw the first signs of life in the way Hiro was acting, beyond the despair and jittery panic of the previous weeks. And she let herself think that maybe, finally, they were making their way through the worst of the storm. They could never get back to the way things were before Tadashi died. But they could make it through.

Then, he started school.

And now he's-

- _happy?-_

-he's looking over the display case at one of their repeat customers who always likes throwing banter back and forth with them, raising his eyebrows in mock anger and shooing him away- "Excuse me, who let _you_ in here?"- so Mr. Kyomi turns it right back and pretends to storm back out the door, complaining over his shoulder that Riu's Diner would _never_ be so disrespectful to their customers, and maybe he'll just take his business somewhere that _appreciates_ him, and his wife is rolling her eyes while Cass tries not to laugh too hard. She already has their usual choice dialed up in the computer by the time Hiro actually takes their order.

… _She's_ happy, too.

The restaurant is loud, but not abrasive. Mr. Kyomi takes his change and, with a devilish smirk, loudly congratulates Hiro on having his twelfth birthday; Hiro pauses, then cocks his head and remarks, "Well, thank you, but you're the one who should be celebrating. Twelve isn't nearly as impressive as a hundred and thre-" Cass shoves her hand over his mouth, but not before Mr. Kyomi's jaw drops and, from her table across the room, Mrs. Matsuda snorts into her coffee.

…Okay, so maybe his burst of happy energy isn't 100% a good thing. She cuffs the back of his head, and Hiro takes a second to apologize to _Mrs._ Kyomi and give her husband nothing but a shrug, then darts away to gather up some dishes. Cass is trying to stammer out a proper apology, since Hiro probably crossed a line there- but she's distracted by the other customers waiting at the front, and soon enough she loses track of the Kyomis entirely.

"Hello?" Eventually, with her attention pulled in different directions, she almost misses that one of Hiro's friends has reached the register. She wants to say his name is Gary- but she's only ever heard Tadashi and the others refer to him as 'Wasabi' before. Despite his size, he seems to be hunched over, looking almost apologetic. "Just a small coffee," he says, then sheepishly adds, "The whole gang's gonna be here soon, so Fred will probably blast through half your menu. Fair warning."

"Yeah, yeah," she says with a laugh. "Hiro already told me." The money switches hands, and the order's punched in, so she keeps talking while fixing up the cup of coffee. "Were you boys working late?"

In response, he sighs dramatically. "If I never have to cite another research article again, it'll be too soon."

She shakes her head. "Gotta admit, those are terms I haven't heard in- huh." She sets the coffee down, then narrows her eyes. "I'd say about twenty-five..."

Has it been that long, since she was in Hiro's shoes? Worrying about grades, and lectures, and papers, and studying all night with friends? Lost in thought, she snaps out of it when Gary raises his eyebrows, clearly expecting her to continue. "Minutes," she says eventually. "Since Hiro mentioned the same thing."

A perfect save. Gary laughs and takes his coffee, thanking her again. Soon he's over near the main floor, nudging Hiro as he passes with a tray of dishes. She only hears part of the conversation- "-waiting anyway, so you might as well help me, man-" and sees Wasabi smugly hold up his receipt, as if to say, _paying customer, sorry,_ before she catches the _ding_ of the door's bell just in time to wish the Takomos a nice evening as they leave.

She breathes deep, with the smells and the sounds and the warm light filtering in from the windows, and she's happy.

The 'gang' arrives like a thunderbolt, later, when she's focusing on taking stock of the registers and computer totals for the day. True to form, Fred places the order for everyone, with three specialty drinks and eight different pastries, while the others move to where Wasabi's already sitting.

He even catches her off-guard, pausing after the order is already rang through. "Oh, and I guess I should get stuff for everyone else, too," he adds. She's startled for a moment, before he snickers and dances away, tossing a 'Gotcha!' over his shoulder as he goes. One of the girls shakes her head when he gets closer- Ethel, Cass is pretty sure, but again, Hiro's friends deal in nicknames so often that she can never be sure. Something along the lines of 'you're such a dork' is called out, and Fred takes a bow before spinning a chair around and sitting in it backwards.

She turns back to the registers. They seem… good. A close group, but not closed-off. And Lord knows Hiro could use close friends, especially given that his peers at school are unanimously four and five years his senior.

Another thought hits her: more than once, Hiro's friends have confided in her that Tadashi's optimism and kindness really impacted them, inspiring them to be more like him in their own lives. And now she has to wonder, as she catches Hiro with another tray of dishes and mentions that his friends are here, if maybe…

His eyes light up again, and he absentmindedly sets the tray down on the nearest counter before he practically sprints over to the group.

Maybe they're doing the same for Hiro.

She doesn't hear the conversation. In a way, she doesn't feel like she should, because it seems somehow- not private, exactly. But something along that line. She glances up again, once in a while, catching Fred leap up from his chair and headlock-hug Hiro with one arm while he roughly noogies his hair with the other hand, and hears bits of the laughter and excitement and questions. The other girl- Tadashi called her 'Honey Lemon'- is the most animated out of all of them, shrieking with a tone that causes a few other patrons to glare at their table.

More eager conversation, more beaming smiles, but she can't tell what they're saying from here. So she hides her own smile, and turns away, and focuses her attention on the simple-but-busy work of getting the café ready for the evening close.

The sun's just barely dipping below the buildings across the street.

It comes out of nowhere, a surge of wistful happiness so strong that she nearly tears up on the spot. But she fights it back, and wishes the leaving customers a good night, and works on clearing the tables. Once again, she can barely hear Hiro's friends joking and chattering over some shared secret.

…They're happy, too.

And when they finally leave, and Fred bids the café goodbye with a strange kind of soulful monologue on the front curb, and Ethel punches him in the shoulder as they walk to the tram stop across the street, Cass watches them for a moment as the restaurant grows silent. And when her last few part-timers clock out and head home, and when she tells Hiro he doesn't have to help her clean up tonight but he insists anyway, tackling the list of tasks pinned to the kitchen doorway for each closing shift, she watches the determined drive in his steps and thinks that maybe, at last, they're starting to get better. Maybe they can get through this.

Maybe they'll be all right.

…

Distracted, she moves the stale pastries from the display case to the fridge, to be discounted for tomorrow.

…

Hiro's working on more dishes in the kitchen.

…

The registers are done, so the only thing left to worry about is the sweeping and mopping on the main floor.

…

She opens her mouth, about to ask Tadashi which one he'd rather do, and she'll take the other task herself, and since it's relatively early, maybe when the three of them are done they can throw in a movie or something if he doesn't have too much homework-

…

Cass stops dead in the middle of the floor.

…

It's been a _month_.

…

She shouldn't- she shouldn't still be-

…

There have been a lot of days, when she has to be strong. For Hiro, and for herself. When she can't let it overwhelm her.

This isn't one of those days.

She's crying, and she doesn't really care because it's already been a pretty emotional day and she doesn't have to hide from anyone- and pretty soon, Hiro's calling her name, and then he's quiet, and then he's hugging her again.

They're getting better.

Whatever _it_ is, it's deep down in her gut, reaching and twisting and hurting, but happy and sad at the same time, and she knows that Hiro feels it too. There's a brief moment, where she feels ashamed for letting the tears dampen his bright mood, but he hugs her tighter and mumbles, "It's okay," and she knows that it is. There's nothing to apologize for.

It's still a good day. They'll get better. (And she doesn't listen to the worried voice, the one that sounds just like herself sometimes, saying _how long will it take_ , because it's hard to see any progress at all, any way forward, and sign that things can ever get back to the way they were- but it's not really about getting 'back', she knows, because life doesn't work that way, and you… in the end, you just have to…)

She can't make sense of her thoughts, and that's alright, too. She squeezes Hiro's shoulders and lets him go, giving him a brief smile and clearing her throat before asking if he can grab the mop bucket from the closet.

After all, there's work to do before the restaurant opens tomorrow morning.

The lights in the café flicker out, just as night creeps over the city, shadows dragging past the buildings on the hills. The cool autumn air grows colder, while the few brightest stars pierce through the metropolis's light and shine down. Further off, the barely-audible roar of San Fransokyo's downtown nightlife is matching the faint man-made glow on the horizon. Half the city is stirring, just as the other finally falls asleep.

And Hiro opens the attic window and leans out, breathing in the crisp chill in the world outside before he steps back and falls onto his mattress. The lamp is already off, and the cold light of the half-moon is just enough to make out the green tinge of the computer chip as he turns it over in his hands.

He squints to look closer.

The transparent cover, and the circuitry behind- they're difficult to make out, and he didn't notice anything earlier, but… he scrambles to turn the light back on, and study the chip more closely, and-

And-

 _Oh no_

But he might be overreacting-

And he might-

 _not be_ -

…

This is the third beginning.

He can't be exactly sure what the chip originally looked like, since he didn't examine it rigorously. But the sinking feeling builds and builds until it feels like it's going to swallow him, tearing down all the exuberance and confidence from the day and replacing it with a cold shiver of panic, because _Hiro knows wiring, and he knows that the circuits aren't supposed to look like that._

Honestly, he realizes dimly, he should have seen this coming. Baymax took the chip out in some kind of scientifically-unknown dimension between dimensions, clasped his fist around it, and launched it with the speed of a rocket out into the world.

Where Abigail Callaghan's pod crashed… straight into the concrete.

And during the day, during the whole day, Hiro never once stopped to think that maybe the chip could be damaged. Everything he felt when he first discovered the chip- it's all freezing, crystallizing, becoming something much more fragile, balanced on the edge of a cliff. He was okay, this morning- he was keeping himself busy, and feeling better, and trying to get started on all the course work that he'd have to make up, and then he'd found the chip, and everything had been _wildly_ different, and he'd been walking on air for the rest of the day, and he even held it together, when Aunt Cass was having a rough night, and now all of that has whiplashed right back around to _panic_ , because in the space of a single day Baymax was gone and then here and now he's _gone again-_

" _No_ ," he blurts out, louder than he meant, and nearly falls out of his bed scrambling to get to his feet. "No, no, no-" And he's grabbing for his phone, still holding the chip in his other hand, because he has to- has to talk to one of the others, maybe to get advice or just to tell them what's going on, he's not sure, but _something._ And he's still mumbling, still frantically spitting out _no_ and _Baymax_ and a few other words that Cass probably wouldn't approve of. In the space of an instant, a stray thought explodes through the rest: he's being too loud, and he probably woke up Tadashi, and he should apologize quick and explain, and maybe he'll know what to do-

He catches himself just as he looks up to the bed across the attic, behind the curtain he hasn't pulled back in a month.

His phone is already in his hand.

…His face is burning, like he just said something dumb in front of the class. But there's no one else up here.

He ignores it, pushes away the sudden sharpness in his chest, that pushes down and weighs on him heavier and more distinct than the worry over Baymax- because he's fine, he's moving on, he's doing better, this is ridiculous, he's FINE _-_ and scrolls through the contacts on his phone until he finds the one he's looking for.

…

Honey Lemon isn't answering.

…

He turns back to the window, when he notices he's still staring at the curtain across the room.

…

He ends the call before her answering machine can start. She's probably sleeping. Because- it's late, he realizes with a jolt. It's really late.

Hiro closes his eyes, and very deliberately sets the chip down on his bedside table.

He tries to focus on the rational side of his mind: the chip will still be here in the morning. He's exhausted. Freaking out, right now, won't help anybody. Fighting against the rush of adrenaline and fear in his throat, he tells himself: _tomorrow._

He'll get started tomorrow.

This doesn't really change the mission. They asked him, when they were all here earlier in the evening- _so what's the plan, now?_ And it was obvious, then. He would rebuild Baymax, from the ground up. Voice, inner machinery, database, everything. With everything he's been learning at school, it would be relatively simple, compared to the AI chip itself.

Now, he simply has to work on repairs for that, too.

Slowly, he sinks back to a sitting position on the edge of his bed, and turns off the lamp. The attic's as quiet as ever, even with the faint whine of the breeze as it carries through the open window. He forgot about it, but he doesn't feel like getting back up to close it again.

The moon's shining through, at his back. He can see his own shadow stretching across the floor towards the other end of the room.

…

He picked up the chip, again, at some point. He doesn't really remember. But now the cool plastic is turning over and over, and he switches it from hand to hand.

…

He thinks of how happy they were, before. It was as if he'd told them that they'd each won a million dollars. He's almost angry, now, at himself- he shouldn't have told them so quickly, especially if he ends up being wrong. How's that conversation going to go? "Hey guys, sorry, turns out one of our best friends and the lasting legacy of Tadashi's life's work actually ISN'T coming back! Oops!"

He looks down at the chip again, and this time, instead of the circuitry behind the faded case, he catches a glimpse of the smiling face on the other side. It doesn't even look like Baymax, not really, but for some reason that image sticks in his mind, and Hiro has to brace himself against the sudden wave of _he's gone_ that slams into his memories. Obviously he misses him, but he tries not to dwell on it too much. It's not like feeling bad is going to bring him back. And he promised himself he wouldn't fall into that dark, mindless state from after Tadashi's death.

Of _course_ he misses him. Of course he wishes he could have him here, right now, to give him a hug and awkwardly tell him things will be okay, and stumble his way through a hilariously literal interpretation of grief counseling.

Hiro blinks back tears. Now, he's looking at the corner of the room, where the charging station used to be.

…Of course he misses him.

This time, it steals over him quietly, almost softly, like a blanket being pulled over his shoulders. He folds his arms and lets his head fall forward, burying his face in his sleeves. Even though there's no one up here to see.

…

…

…

…

…

…

One day. It seems to stretch on forever.

The rest of October is a blur.

He's famous, in a way. Tadashi was already one of the brightest and most popular students on campus, while Robert Callaghan was a moderately recognizable faculty member. Both were catapulted into legend after the fire, and while a fair number of students are still working their way through the shock and grief, there are just as many who see the news of Callaghan's stunning and dramatic reappearance- and his subsequent arrest- as a deliciously ironic bit of gossip, and the starting point for a hundred new rumors.

Such as, say, the idea that Callaghan himself started the showcase fire.

And now the younger brother of SFIT's golden boy is not only enrolled in classes, but working on Tadashi's private research. In the very lab he used to spend time in. The same lab that _Callaghan_ used.

And did you hear? That kid was _there_ , that night. His tech blew everyone away. I heard he was even talking with Tadashi, and the professor. All three of them, right here on campus. That same night.

…It gets hard to listen to, after a while.

So he pretends. He acts like he can't hear them, when the whispers start up in the corner of the lecture hall. Or when some hulking upperclassman bumps him in the hall and throws a 'Watch it, shrimp', over his shoulder, right before his friend urgently pulls him aside- _Don't you know who that is-_ and Hiro keeps his head down and hurries away before he can hear any more of the conversation.

But even that's no help, because campus itself is just as weird; with one of the biggest buildings completely decimated, he can't go a day without thinking about it. No one can, really. Any time he's walking across the greens, it's hard not to look at the slowly-being-rebuilt shell of metal and scaffolding. And it's equally tough not to wonder if the students around him are, automatically, thinking of the fire every time they see him.

Then there's the endless parade of professors, and TA's, and literally even random students, who insist on coming up to him out of nowhere and having a heart-to-heart about their _favorite_ memories of Tadashi, and he must have been so _lucky_ to have him as a brother, and they're _so, so sorry_ that this tragedy happened, and if there's _anything_ at all he needs, he should never hesitate to ask. The first couple times, he's uncomfortable, and embarrassed, and it's tough to get through. Pretty soon, though, that's replaced by annoyance. He fights back the urge to tell them _exactly_ what they can do to help, because the campus has a pretty strict policy on cussing out the faculty.

This is _nothing_ like high school. At least there, he knew what to expect.

Here, though, it's like no one can decide how to treat him. And everyone _tries_ to figure out a way, because everyone knows him; worse, everyone thinks they have to. It's a bizarre combination of tentative respect, casual dismissal since he's so young, the occasional bully, emotional well-wishers who try to make every conversation about his brother, and the editorial staff of the barely-used school paper desperately trying to get him to do an interview.

Oh, right, and a month and a half of missed schoolwork doesn't help.

But he keeps his head down, and bears all the strangeness, and wades through the awkward and mundane and frustrating, because it will all be worth it. His physics courses, and robotics, and even the requisite chemistry and biology courses- even though they're not part of his major- are all providing ample opportunities to continue his research, even if he has to shelve it for the occasional midterm paper. He's here, at the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, with some of the most distinguished professors and state-of-the-art facilities in the country, if not the world; he's literally in the perfect place to work.

That's what makes it so frustrating that he's feeling… stuck.

Excluding the chip, everything seemed simple enough, at first. He just had to reconstruct another 'body' for Baymax, similar to the original; and while the more rebellious side of him wanted to build him with the upgrades already added this time, he couldn't bring himself to change Tadashi's intended design. It wouldn't be difficult; since the bulk of the genius was in the AI, anyway, remaking the robot itself wouldn't be that different from constructing bots for the arenas.

Quickly, though, he's realizing that it's much more complicated than that. The receptors and modules that translated the chip's intelligence to movement, to audible and understandable words, to _thinking_ that moves fast enough to pass as a living being… they have to be matched perfectly. It's not just a matter of building another husk, throwing in the chip like a power source, and suddenly greeting his old friend. Every specificity of the wiring and design needs to complement the chip itself, or else it simply won't work.

And that's not even considering the fact that the data itself is corrupted. It's barely the start of the semester (for him, anyway), and he's embroiled in dozens of research papers on the science of AI basics, the complexities of data recovery, the tips and tricks of working with minuscule circuit boards that have to be handled with instruments so small and precise that he almost can't see what he's working on- and it's enough to make him almost sick with frustration, that Baymax is literally within his grasp, but still so far away.

And on top of _that,_ if he's being honest, it's just really freaking weird to suddenly be dealing with lectures and homework and papers and advisor meetings, when he was flying through a semi-magical, a-spatial, dimension-crossing paradox portal a few weeks ago.

So the lab becomes, gradually, more familiar. And so the rooms and spaces, crisp and clean with dividers and fluorescent lights at every turn, become something easier to picture as _workspace_ instead of _that one time being introduced to everybody, following him around and-_ and he usually stops the thought there, because dwelling on the past is only going to make things more difficult. More or less, it's his lab, now, as much as it is Honey Lemon's or Wasabi's. It was incredibly unsettling, at first, to sit down and try to get research done only yards away from where _he_ used to spend his time. But even that fades, as he gets more used to it.

It's not long before he's staying late, each day after class. And it's not tough to placate Aunt Cass; as far as she knows, he's staying to catch up on schoolwork, and she's thrilled that he's so wholeheartedly enthusiastic about college. It's only half a lie, so he's only half-guilty about it.

The others are a different story. At first, each of the four makes a point of staying in the lab, too, offering advice and trying to help with the research as much as possible. But over weeks, it becomes clear that a lot of this will have to fall on Hiro's shoulders, since he knows Baymax's workings best from his work in crafting the prototype armor. And Tadashi's research- as much as he could find in his notes, anyway- makes the most sense to him, since robotics are more his specialty than anyone else's.

He still sees them every day; even Fred, who technically isn't even a student. But one by one, they're spending less time in the lab, occasionally checking in or stopping by to chat before heading home. Or, simply working on their own assignments. And honestly, that's fine with him. More time to focus. He's sure that, more than anything, that's what he needs right now.

And that's what he gets.

"Heads up!"

"FRED, DON'T YOU DARE-"

…Most of the time.

On instinct (and, he supposes, somewhat ironically), he ducks- but it's nothing airborne, like the chemical reaction from last week that ended with multiple buildings evacuating. No, this time, when he turns halfway in his chair, he yelps and darts backwards before a colorful blur can clip him as it rockets past. Within seconds, the rolling chair that seems to be cruising at highway speed catches on the corner of a work table, and the abrupt change in momentum sends its passenger tumbling to the floor.

At a pretty impressive speed, Hiro has to admit.

Also, though, it's entirely possible that Fred now has a concussion or something. But the worry vanishes before Hiro has time to process what just happened, because Fred's immediately back on his feet, shooting a smug grin across the room where Wasabi and Honey are gaping, mouths open. "Sorry, no autogra-" He says before wincing and slowly lowering himself until he's sitting on the floor. "Ow. My knees. God, that hurts."

"Who could have seen that coming," Go Go says, without looking up from her work. She has several diagrams and pages of notes splayed out on one of the desks. It's a valiant attempt, Hiro considers, to distract herself from the antics happening a few yards away. "Besides, you know, anyone with functioning eyes."

"Um, rude. Insensitive." Still not getting up, Fred frowns in her direction. "What if I hit my face on the table and went blind? Huh? Ever think about that when you're planning your little zingers?"

"Yeah, but the phrase isn't literally about vision," Wasabi says. He still looks vaguely offended that this happened at all. "If you 'see it coming', it's more about thinking ahead. Which, if we're being honest- that was definitely the issue."

"Rude," Hiro echoes, grinning at the chance to jump in. Fred sends a grateful thumbs-up his way, and he waits a beat before adding, "But accurate."

Go Go snorts from across the room. A gleam in his eye- he's having fun with this, Hiro can tell- Fred rises up dramatically and crosses his arms with a huff. "I am _wounded,_ you callous fiends. My soul aches with the cold sting of betraya- _agh._ " Again, he falters and leans against the table next to him, reaching down to vaguely slap at his leg. Hiro doesn't know what he's hoping to accomplish.

"Are your knees actually okay?" Honey says, and for some reason- maybe because she's clearly actually concerned, or maybe because the timing after Fred's 'wounded' line strikes Hiro as perfect- it's the funniest thing he's heard all week, and he starts laughing into his hand at the same time Fred glares at him with indignation. "Fred, I can't always tell if you're playing it up or if you have actual medical problems!"

She sounds _so genuinely worried_ , Hiro topples out of his chair. Somewhere above him, Fred is pouting. "Honey, I'm fine. Go, how _could_ you. Hiro, buddy, you're my friend and I care about you, but I swear I will drop-kick you out this window."

"This is the first floor," Go Go says. "He'll fall like three feet."

"Even better, because then you'll sorta hurt your knees, and then you will _know my pain, you heartless child._ " Okay, Hiro's friggin' _gone,_ now, because it's getting harder to tell if Fred is actually mad at him or not- which makes it _funnier_ \- and the more Hiro laughs, the more worked up Fred gets, and this is a vicious cycle if ever he's seen one.

"And _you_ ," Fred says in an accusing tone. When Hiro finally looks up, he's pointing at Wasabi, apparently determined to have some kind of vengeful declaration for each of them. "Instead of sarcastic commentary and _wry, witty observations-"_

"Thank you."

"Of course," Fred acknowledges, then switches back to angry. "Instead of all _that,_ how 'bout a "You're welcome, Fred," because I'm pretty sure I just did like half your research for you!"

Now that he's had a second to get the giggling under control, Hiro pulls himself into his chair again. "How's that?" he says innocently, trying not to grin when Fred gives him another look of _you don't get to speak, traitor._

Honey Lemon sighs. "…We're working on a laser-based propulsion system, and Wasabi mentioned that we'd need a better testing area, since the floor in here isn't steady enough to gauge speed for wheeled machines."

"Yeah, and obviously that's bogus, so I proved it." Fred says. "Here, I'll show you."

"DON'T DO IT AGAIN," Wasabi yells, somehow sounding both pleading and weary, and Hiro can't help it- he's collapsed against the arm of the chair, laughing so hard he can't catch his breath. He wonders if everyone else is so used to their unique brand of dysfunction that they don't even find it funny, anymore- or maybe he's just losing it.

That wasn't really a serious thought, but it does lead to another: the thought that, possibly… he kinda needed this. It feels good to laugh himself stupid. And to have a moment that doesn't really matter, where he doesn't have to think. Or worry.

Hopefully he won't start using Fred as a comedic punching bag to de-stress. Although, that in itself is a funny enough thought that he keeps laughing.

"So you're not actually hurt, right?" Honey asks.

"Nah. All's well that ends well. And hey, we even got scientific knowledge out of it. This is a win."

"So… you can, like, walk?"

" _This is a win."_

"I think you broke that rolling chair."

"I SAID IT'S A WIN," Fred declares, aggressively cheerful, but Hiro doesn't have time to start laughing again, because he's distracted by the tell-tale sound of his phone vibrating, so he should probably…

Wait.

Oh, _crap._

He scrambles over to where he left his backpack on the desk, because that's also where he left his phone, so he wouldn't have _heard_ it going off since he was lost in concentration, and then distracted by the shenanigans going on… and, honestly, he hasn't been keeping track of the time-

He clicks the screen on, to see the time-

This is not good.

He glances over the missed calls and texts.

This is _not good._

Hiro dials the number that's blaring across the screen, trying to stifle the mental chant of _I'm in trouble, I'm in trouble, I'm in so much friggin' trouble_ , and waits in dread for the ringing to stop. He doesn't have to wait long.

"I'm so sorry," he says immediately, when he's pretty sure the call has gone through. "I love you, and I'm sorry, and-"

"Hiro Hamada."

Bad. Definitely bad. And he's pretty sure the others heard that- he groans and slaps his forehead, because he _really_ should have ducked out of the lab before starting this call. "Hey, Aunt Cass," he says with as much sincerity and regret as he can muster. Maneuvering past desks and chairs, he slips through the exit and takes a few more steps until he can hear her pretty clearly, and can't hear the others. And until he's fairly sure the others can't hear _her._ "I'm fine. I'm- everything's fine. I just didn't check my phone. Sorry."

"Oh, honey, thank goodness." She sounds tired, and relieved, and Hiro wants to smack himself in the forehead. "How about I cut out the middleman and give _myself_ the heart attack next time."

"Uh, yeah," he says nervously. "…Sorry again?"

"Hiro. You realize how late it is, right?"

Well, yeah, obviously he does _now._ He pulls the phone away for a second and groans again- the annoyed, teenager-stereotype _uugh_ that Cass absolutely hates- and he falls back against one of the walls next to some lockers. "Yeah, I- I know. I just got caught up with some research, and I didn't think about checking the time-"

"You know I trust you! You know I think it's important that you make your own schedule, and make your own decisions, but- if you're going to be out late, you need to let me know." She pauses, and it sounds like she's trying to calm down. "…Or at the _very_ least, I need to be able to get ahold of you."

"You're right. I know, you're right, I wasn't-"

"You can't just keep _saying_ that! I'm not looking for an apology, I just want you to stop doing this!"

"I will. I will, next time, I-" He can already tell this is going nowhere. This exchange is starting to feel all too familiar. "I promise, alright?"

"You've said that before. Hiro, I need you to understand that there's a difference between what you _say_ and what you _do_ , and you can't just-"

"Look, I said I'm sorry!" And there it is, _theeeeere's_ the slight edge and ever-so-noticeable raised voice that literally never helps the situation, and _God_ , he's frustrated with himself for letting that slip out. Cass is quiet for a second, and Hiro's swamped by the awful, clinging sensation in his chest that he can only describe as a feeling of 'I just screwed up, and it's already too late to take it back'.

Even better: the silent couple of seconds where he just has to _wait._

"…Hiro."

"I'm sorry," he says again, quieter this time- even though she just said she's not looking for apologies- and grits his teeth, mashing the palm of his hand against his forehead. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that- that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have yelled, and…"

He trails off, because he doesn't know what to say next. He had a burst of panic and regret, but it's not translating into coherent words, so he's stuck here, holding his phone and staring blankly into the distance like an idiot. And Cass is still doing the silent treatment thing.

…Or maybe she doesn't know what to say, either.

"I'll be home soon," he says, eventually. "I'm leaving now, so… twenty minutes, probably."

"Okay." She's more reserved now. He can't tell what she's thinking. "You took the tram, right?"

"Yeah." He absolutely hates feeling this guilty. And showing up at home to apologize in person isn't likely to fix everything. "Alright, see you soon."

"Hiro?"

He pauses. "…Yeah?"

There's another bit of silence, and he tries to calm down, imagining how angry and disappointed Cass probably is right now- no, no, that is NOT calming, God, that's the _opposite_ of what he should be thinking about, so he just takes a deep breath and waits.

"Look, I- I know I worry too much. And I'm sure…" Cass stops, sounding more quiet and hesitant than he's heard in a long time. "I'm sure I need to- dial it back, I guess. But- I also need you to meet me halfway, alright?"

It catches him off guard, for some reason, and he stammers until he can collect his thoughts. "…Y-yeah. Of course."

"Good. Thank you." Another pause, and Hiro realizes his other hand is clenched tight in a fist. "I'm not… the perfect aunt, or anything, and we're not exactly a normal family, but…"

A stray thought pulls at Hiro's attention, and he is momentarily _sure_ she's about to say _'But we're all we have left.'_

She doesn't. "But that's okay," she finishes, shaky, like someone talking into the wind. "We'll make it okay."

It sounds like she's trying to convince herself. Hiro lets out a breath, and tries very hard not to think about that. "Yeah," he repeats, and it sounds dumb, but it's something. "Yeah."

"Right." He's pretty sure he hears her sniff, just for a second, then- "I'll see you soon," she says, more steady now.

"Yeah," he says again- wow, he's really just a friggin' encyclopedia of intelligent vocabulary today- and briefly, considers adding another 'sorry', but he exhales and mutters, "Bye."

"Alright. I love you."

 _Blip._

…As if he didn't already feel like a jerk. He was already moving his thumb to end the call when she said that, so he wasn't _trying_ to very clearly reject that last line- still, he exhales loudly and switches to texting for a quick 'love you too'.

It's a tradition, kind of. She made it something of a family rule, that any fight- no matter how big or small the argument- had to end with both people saying 'I love you'. Half the time, it was yelled through closed doors or muttered with a glare, but they had it for as long as he can remember. Hiro always thought it was kind of stupid.

Tadashi liked it, though.

"You okay?"

Slightly startled, he looks up to see Go Go leaning her head out of the lab's entrance. "For sure," he says on instinct. "Just, uh, I should- probably get home. Didn't realize how late it was."

"Alright." She glances back inside. "I'm sure Wasabi could give you a ride, if you need-"

"No, that's fine." He didn't really mean to interrupt her. God, there have been too many weird, small social moments of awkwardness in the last couple minutes. He winces again. "I, uh, took the tram. That's- I mean- thanks, though."

She wasn't even the one offering the ride, so saying thanks was another flub- but she just shrugs and heads back to the lab. And now, he realizes, he still has to walk back into the lab to grab his stuff- knowing everyone just heard the beginning of a half-argument with his aunt- and then walk right back out. Fun.

But even though he's not really looking forward to that, his mind keeps wandering to Aunt Cass. She sounded… really worried, honestly. And that hit him like a punch to the gut, but it also made it awfully easy to make the jump to irritated-and-snappy, so now he's… ugh. It just feels rotten. And apologizing when he gets home probably isn't going to make things better.

He shakes his head, and starts back towards the lab.

The last thing he wants to do is make her worry.

…

…

…

…

…

…

" _The terrorist attack three weeks ago sparked a series of questions that have yet to be answered. Primarily, the city wants to know- how could Robert Callaghan, beloved professor and genius scholar, also be a relentless would-be murderer? How can we make sure something like this doesn't happen again?"_

" _But perhaps the most mysterious question of all, with the least amount of available information- who were those suspicious heroes, at the scene of the attack? How did they know what would be happening? Why have they disappeared, and where are they now?"_

" _The so-called "Big Heroes", who seemed primed to dominate the news after their dramatic confrontation with Callaghan and the subsequent reappearance of his daughter, a pilot thought to be killed in an accident involving Krei Industries months ago, have suddenly vanished from the face of the earth after a single, hectic moment in the spotlight. Both in online discussion rooms and official polls, consensus seems to be that this group is likely responsible for the rescue of Abigail Callaghan, and the concurring arrest of Robert Callaghan; but there are contradicting accounts, suggesting that the Heroes were themselves responsible for much of the damage at the scene."_

" _Verified information are difficult to come by, but online speculation has connected the attack with the tragic fire at the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, when Robert Callaghan was thought to have been killed-"_

 _Click._

Cass turns off the TV.

She's never liked this story. Sure, the home-grown heroes are pretty popular, and there's a certain pride around the city since New York gets most of the superhero scene, but… Callaghan is from San Fransokyo, too.

They'll always be linked. A masked man appears downtown, collapsing a building and attempting to kill a local business magnate. He's arrested- but then, as soon as his identity is leaked to the press, a shadow of conspiracy and scandal is cast back through time, onto the infamous fire. He was thought dead, after all. Cue the news reports, and the media latching onto any details like ticks- and suddenly, Cass has to watch her step around the café to avoid running into the shifty-eyed reporters who seem to materialize out of the air.

"Ma'am, if you could just answer a few questions- do you think your nephew's death is in any way connected to Robert Callaghan's dramatic reappearance?"

The first time, she allows herself to indulge in the anger, asking the man if he could repeat his words, just to be sure she's hearing him right. Then, she informs him that she can't let him know exactly what she thinks of the question- after all, there are children in the restaurant, and she'd rather not have them witness an act of physical violence. Then, she smiles sweetly and asks him to please vacate the premises.

It feels pretty good.

…The next six times, she doesn't have the energy.

"Excuse me?"

Startled, she nearly drops the remote- a young woman sitting at a table across from the window is looking her way, with a short haircut and a tilt of her head. There are only two or three people in the café at all, but she should have checked to see if anyone was hoping to keep the report going. Even if it _was_ a little hard to stomach. "Oh, I'm- I'm sorry," Cass says, dreading what she's about to hear more of. "I was just- I'll get it back, here. Just a second."

"No, that's fine!" She's giving her an understanding smile. "Actually, I was wondering if you get the channel with the game?"

Once again, she's flummoxed for a moment. Then, the gratitude breaks out in a smile of her own. "…Baseball. Right. I- Absolutely. I just need to…"

Normal. Nothing particularly special. Just a baseball game.

"I think it's on Nine, if that helps," the woman says. "It's not a huge problem."

"No, I can find it." With the television on again, Cass fiddles with the remote and tries to bring up the guide.

" _-with theories ranging from ridiculous to plausible, it would be difficult to avoid the questions surrounding the suspect. For example, some have pointed to the proliferation of advanced, cutting-edge technology present at the school's annual Showcase on the night of the fire. The only student to be killed in the fire, Tadashi Hamada, happened to be the brother of one of the most prominent presenters, a prospective student who demonstrated an incredible and experimental system of robotics, that also seemed to be present when Callaghan attacked the-"_

Of all the times for the 'mute' button to be stuck. Cass does her best not to listen- still, when the audio finally cuts out, she can't help but feel relieved.

From across the room, there's a small gasp, and when she turns- "Oh, no," the woman says, with a hand against her mouth. "I- I didn't even realize. I'm sure that's the _last_ thing you want to hear. I-"

"It's alright," Cass says quickly, trying for the reassuring smile again, but she's sure it isn't very convincing. "Really, it's- it's fine. Besides, it's not your fault."

As if she didn't even hear her, the woman shakes her head. "I'm _so_ sorry," she says, and now there's an angry scowl as she looks back up at the screen. "I wish they wouldn't keep _talking_ about it like this. It's- the whole thing, I just- it's awful."

The game flickers to life on the screen, but Cass is lost in thought for a few seconds before she realizes it's still muted. She brings the volume to a reasonably quiet level for a café, then notices she still hasn't responded. "Y-yeah," she says softly. "I- you're right, it is."

"Oh, God, you're probably _sick_ of people telling you that- as if we have any clue what it's like." The woman seems to be rambling, now, and she closes her eyes like she's trying to regain her composure. "I'm sorry. I only meant to- I wanted to say, I'm sorry for everything that happened, and I'm especially sorry that those _toads_ -" An echo of the anger comes back as she jerks her head towards the screen. "-treat people _dying_ like it's the latest celebrity gossip- I swear, it's like people get off on goddamn _tragedy-"_

O-kay. That takes Cass by surprise, and she blinks a few times with her mouth open, not sure what to say. "Oh, I'm _sorry,"_ the woman says again, almost like she's panicking. "That was so inappropriate, and I-"

"Really, it's fine." That's not entirely true, but clearly her heart's in the right place- and honestly, Cass has to admit that this is a _little_ bit funny. "I appreciate it. It's alright."

"I'm screwing this all up," the woman says sadly. "I thought I'd be all understanding, and respectful, and now it's just… Ugh. I'm sorry again." There's a hint of humor in her voice, like she's a bit less serious about the whole thing.

"I'm telling you, it's no problem." Hesitantly, Cass tries to return some of the joking. "I can kick you out, if it'd make you feel better."

She stares at Cass with a shocked expression- but just before Cass can hurriedly explain that she was just kidding, the woman smiles widely and even chuckles. "…Okay, you got me. I- I didn't, um- I was-" Still stuttering, she eventually sighs again. "Thanks for understanding."

Cass just nods, this time. "Enjoy the game," she says brightly, before turning to the register to start the records from the lunch hour. The whole thing is still kind of funny- and she tries her best to let her mind be distracted by that, instead of anything else.

After all, she'll have to find a way to deal with it. That's hardly the last conversation she'll have about the subject.

The afternoon hours are as slow as she expects. Eventually, she's alone in the lobby- and no one's come in for an early dinner snack yet, so there's no sound but the quiet commercials coming from the TV behind her. Cass is clearing the tables when she notices a red scarf left by the window- the woman must have forgotten it, earlier.

Huh. If Cass had a name, or a phone number, she could get it back to her, but… as is, she can't really do anything except hold onto it and hope she comes back some other time.

She stashes the scarf in one of the drawers by the register, once again thinking about the bizarre conversation. The kind, slightly eccentric woman- and the people in the café nearly every day, who are genuinely kind and concerned for her. People who make her days a little easier. She needs to… keep thinking about those things.

Not the news reports, and the way that- there were a few good points, and she can't stop replaying them in her head, and there was that one video she watched a week ago, with the attack, and there were those awful black machines flying around- and they almost looked a _bit_ like Hiro's showcase project-

And she can't remember exactly where Hiro was that day-

 _Don't._

She cuts off the thoughts, grabbing the counter in front of her to steady herself after a moment of dizziness. She can't… think like that. It's too painful. And ominous, and somehow _tempting-_ she can see the draw of conspiracy theories, because there's something there, something that _wants_ to piece together a mystery and pull back lies until something is discovered, that- whispers to her _you're wrong, there's something more, lies, you don't understand_ -

But this is _Hiro._ And the fire. And Tadashi, and that awful masked face that kept appearing in the news- and involving her boys in any of that twisted, awful world is simply too much.

If the story keeps changing, and keeps developing… she doesn't know if she'll be able to handle it.

She takes a few deep breaths, looking down at the open drawer, with the red scarf bunched up inside.

…

…

…

…

…

…

" _Duuuuuude."_

Hiro rolls his eyes, but a smile gets through. "Hey, Fred."

He turns around in his chair, squinting against the dim ceiling lights as he tries to pick out where Fred is- just before the man himself bounds through the open garage door, literally skipping, and vaults over the old sofa across from Hiro's workstation, immediately flopping down onto the worn-out cushions with a contented sigh. It strikes Hiro as, somehow, both incredibly lazy and full of energy. "Ta-daaaa," Fred sing-songs as he waves both hands in the air above him. Then, he appears to remember something, and twists around to look at Hiro with a scowl. "Alright, buddy, you got some 'splaining to do."

"About wh-" Pausing, Hiro blinks and looks back to the open garage door. "Did… did you walk here?"

"Dude. Please. Stay on topic. This is important." Fred is waving something in front of his face.

Hiro purposefully ignores it. "I mean, that would have taken _forever_ , right? That's not- that's not a short trip."

"Irrelevant. Listen."

"I mean, I guess Heathcliff could have driven you-"

" _Hirooooo,"_ Fred whines. There's a paper in his hands, and- still lying on the couch- he thrusts it forward until the pages are nearly brushing Hiro's face.

At this point, it's kinda fun. Straight-faced, Hiro looks right at Fred. "I'm picturing you wandering the city like some kinda weird rich hobo."

"Hiro Jeffrey Hamada, so help me, I will suplex you over this couch."

"No, you won't." He pauses again. "…Jeffrey? Seriously, that's your best guess?"

"What's wrong with Jeffrey? It's-" Eyes going wide, Fred scrambles to sit up and points an accusing finger. "I won't let you distract me! Trickster! You must answer my query!"

"My name's _Hiro Hamada,"_ he says slowly, with probably just a bit of sarcasm. "And you guessed… Jeffrey."

"You know what? I don't even _want_ to ask you anymore." In a huff, Fred shoves the paper back in his pocket, folding his arms like he's an angry toddler. "So there."

Hiro stares at him, like he's considering it, then shrugs. "K."

He turns back to his computer, just before Fred loudly groans and probably flops over again. "Noooooo. You're breaking my heart, man. Don't do this."

"Sorry," he says, only half-paying attention, his focus back on the screen. "You'll get over me."

"Scoundrel! All I wanted was your affection! Where will I go? What will I do?"

"Sorry," he says again. It's hard to come up with good jokes when he's distracted. "I'm in a committed relationship. With, um, science."

"I won't be the side chick to _science!_ She can't treat you like I can!"

Welp. It was fun while it lasted. That's what he gets for trying to banter with Fred. No one outdoes Fred. Grimacing, Hiro shoots him a glare. "Okay, God, that got weird. Jokes time is over. No more jokes."

"Never!" Fred proclaims, then pauses. For a second, he looks serious, too. "Yo, are- are you okay? You look exhausted, man."

"Huh? I'm fine." Hiro squints at him, before sighing and turning back to the screen.

"Uh… alright, cool! Now-" He stops, probably grabbing the paper out of his pocket again. "Reveal unto me, if you can, what _this_ is."

"Sorry, can't see it," he responds, still focused on the information in front of him. Fred's petulant _No fair, you said jokes time was over_ sounds out behind him, but it's easy enough to ignore. The program he has on this computer isn't the _best_ for analyzing data, much less code as complex as what's on the chip; but if he can isolate the problems individually, then it'll be a lot easier to keep doing the work at the lab, too, even if he can't modify the board here at home. He frowns thoughtfully, because even though he knows that the data is corrupted, the program is having trouble distinguishing errors from algorithms so advanced that it doesn't recognize them as legitimate codes.

Which… makes sense. If Tadashi did most of his work at the lab, with state-of-the-art facilities… He grits his teeth, cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Hiro. This. Here. In my hands. Tell me."

Out of the corner of his eye, he's vaguely aware that Fred is waving something at him. He pushes his fingers against his temples. He _can't_ spend unlimited hours on campus. Even if they kept the lab open and running for him, Cass would never let him stay out even later than he already is.

But there's no other way around it, if he can't get the work done anywhere else. And it's not going nearly fast enough; he has to devote so much time to his classes, and getting roped into helping out at the café, and the squad showing up to talk to him all the time, that he feels like the research is becoming a lower priority. That can't happen.

Hell, even things like eating and sleeping suddenly seem like they're taking up _huge_ chunks of time from the day. Luckily, he's been able to cut those down slightly to save precious hours.

Still, it's aggravating.

"Eh." Now the hand is closer, waving the paper in front of his face once more. "Eh. Hiro. Explanatio-"

Without warning, Fred yelps and tumbles off the couch, apparently reaching just a bit too far. For a moment, he just blinks up at the garage's ceiling, then turns his head slightly so he can glare at Hiro. With a very serious expression, he holds out the paper again, making no move to get up. "Eh."

Hiro holds the eye contact for three full seconds, making sure he gets the most out of his _unimpressed_ face, then sighs and finally grabs it from him. "I don't think we've cleaned that floor in, like, a couple y-"

He stops.

 _MYSTERIOUS GROUP PREVENTS DISASTER AT KREI INDUSTRIES_

His fingers feel colder, when they brush the edge of the newspaper clipping. He kinda wants to say something snarky back to Fred, kinda wants to shrug it off like no big deal, kinda wants to rip it up until it's nothing but tatters. But he doesn't do anything. His face is going red, and he doesn't know why.

"Well? Did you know about this?" Finally, Fred is back on his feet, and smugly leaning down to re-read the article. "We're famous, man!"

This is- this is wrong. Something about this just feels… weird. And embarrassing. And _sad_ , somehow, twisting up his guts until he'd rather bolt out of the house than finish this conversation. But he swallows, and hands it back to Fred. "You know this is from weeks ago, right?"

"Yeah." He spreads his arms wide. "So, _why didn't you tell me about it?"_

"Five different stations ran a TV thing, like, ten minutes after it happened." He shrugs. "Besides, isn't tracking superhero stuff on the news more _your_ thing?"

Fred gives him an incredulous look. "Hiro, come on! You don't care about this? It's our first big victory as a team, and now it's immortalized forever! This is something you could frame, or- or print on a giant poster thing, and, like-"

Like a rubber band snapping, the sudden realization of just what they're talking about _hits_ Hiro, and he leaps to his feet. "Dude!" he hisses. "Keep your voice down!"

"What?" If possible, he looks even more baffled. "What'd I do?"

The newspaper clip slipped out of his hand at some point, but he doesn't really care. "We don't exactly have soundproof walls, okay? Just-" Fuming, he runs his hands through his hair and sits back down. "Just try to be more careful."

The wheels squeak as the chair turns, and he's facing the computer again. His face is still burning. The garage is, pretty suddenly, quiet.

"…Hiro." He doesn't turn to look at Fred. "You, uh… your aunt doesn't know?"

That sick twist in his stomach only gets worse, and Hiro keeps his eyes on the screen. Data inputs, that aren't helping him in the slightest. Useless information, running over and over across the screen.

"I honestly thought she knew _literally_ the whole time." Fred gives a nervous laugh, and- and he actually sounds pretty freaked out right now. "Oh my God, dude, she- she knows about Baymax, at least, right?"

Hiro's throat is completely dry. But even if it wasn't, he can't think of a single response.

"…Seriously?" There's a soft noise behind him, like Fred just fell back down onto the sofa. "You didn't- she doesn't know _any_ of it?"

When the words finally come, they're raspy and weak. Pitiful, honestly. He hates hearing them. "I couldn't just tell her," he mutters. "We were… going after wanted criminals. We flew over the ocean. We could have died, like, fifty times."

"Yeah, but-" Fred stops, and Hiro eventually turns a little so he can see him; he's staring down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs back and forth with a concerned slant to his eyebrows. "But he's _Baymax._ I mean, he- he's…" Fred swallows and glances up at Hiro, with an uncertain frown. "He's Tadashi's."

He absolutely hates how sometimes, just the name can make him angry. It's not rational, it's not- it's not _anything_ , it's just there, suddenly, and he can't _do_ something about it. "I know," he says, and it sounds like another snap; he closes his eyes, pinching his forehead with both hands. "But he- it's just- there's too much."

His words tumble out without making much sense, and Fred's expression doesn't change. "It's too much," Hiro repeats, and his fingers splay open so they're pushing against his skull like maybe that will somehow take away the pressure. "Everyone saw a giant robot on the news, Fred. If she sees him now, she'll know- and she'll- it'll be _obvious_ , and I can't- I can't tell her _now._ There's no way."

Fred's silent for a while. Hiro dimly notices the computer screen has gone black, from not being used in a few minutes. Still, he doesn't take his hands away from his head.

"So… when?" Fred asks quietly.

 _Never_ , is Hiro's first thought, but he doesn't say it _even though it's true_ because it sounds cowardly, and impossible, and stupid, and- God, he's been so _dumb_ about all this, but it just makes him feel even more trapped no matter which way he turns, and he can't figure it out-

"I don't know," he says at last. He can see the two of them, reflected in the computer screen. Fred looks worried, watching him with sad eyes and a nervous twitch in his hands as he rubs at his wrists. And for Hiro's part, he looks-

Honestly, he looks awful. At first, he thought it was a trick of the light in the dim tint of the reflection- and actually, yeah, that's definitely why he looks so pale. In a regular mirror, he'd look a lot more normal. Still, it's weird to see how washed-out and sickly his face looks this way, with the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. No wonder Fred asked if he was alright.

Weird, how he can look so worn-out, even though he's fine. Physically, at least. He closes his eyes and tries to calm down, letting the panic of talking about Cass play itself out until he's at least a little bit less freaked out. At the same time, strangely, he has to stifle a yawn- he realizes he's pretty tired, but it somehow feels like he's been at this level for a while, and only just now noticed.

He shakes his head. Just another reason he needs to stop wasting time, and get back to work. But before he reaches for the mouse, Fred coughs behind him. "Man, I'm not- I'm not the best person for this, but…" When Hiro turns, Fred looks away and awkwardly reaches up to rub the back of his neck. "Do you, like- talk to anybody about all this? Everything, I mean. The hero stuff, and Baymax, and- Tadashi?"

Well, isn't that the million-dollar question.

A dozen responses are about to rip themselves out of Hiro's lungs, but he shoves them back down. At the very least, Fred's finally speaking more quietly. "Obviously it doesn't have to be me, but… probably someone else from the group, you know? Who already knows it all. Like, Honey's great with this kind of stuff."

His reflection blinks back at him, ghostly-white and dark at the same time.

And if he's honest, if he tries to think back- and remember the last real, painful, hard-hitting conversation he's had with _anyone_ \- it was with Baymax. Because he _could_ talk to Baymax about stuff like this, even if- even if he was frustrating sometimes, and didn't always understand what to do or say, or- even when he stopped Hiro in his tracks and asked him if this was what Tadashi would have-

Or even before that- he used to talk to _Tadashi_ , about high school and bullies and friends and being scared, of other people and dying and _do you remember anything about them, because sometimes I think I remember what Mom looked like but I'm not sure-_

Hah. And now, both his confidantes are gone.

It's almost funny.

"Not anymore," he says before he can think it through, and that probably doesn't exactly make sense to Fred- but he doesn't ask again, and Hiro doesn't say anything else, and the sense that he just shot down a concerned and friendly attempt at _helping_ him slowly grows until he swears he can _hear_ the weighted silence in the room.

He probably should. He pictures a therapist's office, and a little yellow notepad, and one of those weird long couches, and maybe Wasabi with a different hairstyle and thick glasses and a bunch of droning questions about _how does that make you feeeeeel_ \- and scowls, because pouring out his soul about all this is the last thing he needs right now. Thinking too much and getting lost in his own head… that's the _problem_ , not the solution.

Besides.

There's work to do.

"Anything else you wanted to talk about?" he says bluntly, and doesn't turn to Fred to see if he's hurt by the callous dismissal. Yeah, he probably killed the conversation a bit more suddenly than he needed to, but whatever. Finally, he brings the screen back to life and checks the progress of the data analysis.

 _Abysmal_ is the first word that comes to mind. He grits his teeth. He'll probably need to redo this section completely, at the lab tomorrow- any results he gets back now will be pretty much useless.

Now, if Fred could just leave already, he can start figuring out what he _can_ work on next. If he allows one trip back to the kitchen for some more water, and another to the bathroom at some point, that'll still leave a solid two and a half hours before Aunt Cass starts to get worried-

"Uh… yeah! Yeah, for sure," Fred says, sounding _way_ too cheery, given what they were just talking about. "I wanted to, uh- ask you, if, like-"

Hiro still doesn't turn and look at him. The guy's desperately trying to think of something to talk about, just so he doesn't have to leave and feel like this whole evening was a waste of time. Which it basically _was,_ honestly. He feels a twinge of regret, at thinking so disdainfully of one of his friends. Whatever, though. He's tired. It's no big deal.

"Oh! Right!" Fred snaps his fingers. "I was gonna ask you about the movie! See, I already voted for _Zombatman 3,_ and I figured that was in the bag since Honey's a lock for anything with zombies; but then, Go totally hits us with the 'sudden but inevitable betrayal' thing because she wants to see some cheesy romcom? And now outta nowhere the vote's two against two, since Wasabi doesn't really do blood- he _says_ he hates action movie clichés, but don't listen to him, it's totally the blood- so basically we're at a stalemate, here, and if you don't come through for me on this one we're all gonna be stuck watching _The Last Rose Petal_ and watching Wasabi bawl his eyes out. Which, I guess that's a silver lining now that I think about it, but still. Zombies, man. It's gotta be the zombos. And it's all up to you."

At some point, Hiro turned around in his chair to respond- but Fred just kept going, and now that he's finally finished he's just looking at him with an expectant grin. Hiro blinks a few times, trying to work his way through the tonal shift that just slammed into his brain like a tsunami. "I have," he said eventually, "no idea what you're talking about, man."

And… shouldn't Fred be mad at him, right now? Or at least annoyed, and not as peppy, and… un-Fred? Seriously, it's getting pretty awkward, because Hiro very clearly shut down the heart-to-heart conversation Fred was going for, but now he's… back to joking around and talking about movies like everything's fine.

Wait. No. That's just the thought that Hiro was arguing, earlier- that everything's fine. He furrows his brow, because- now, that doesn't really make sense. He wasn't-

"Hiro, you're killing me." Dramatically, Fred flops back down onto the couch. "Movie night, remember? We've been planning this one since, like, two weeks ago. But we couldn't decide what to see, so we figured we'd wait it out and choose once we got closer, but now thanks to Go Go's traitorous ways, I am at a very real risk of seeing a movie about some people arguing and maybe kissing, instead of a movie where _zombie superheroes definitely fight zombie supervillains._ " He raises a finger, still on his back, as if adding another point he just thought of. "And I know I have said some very harsh words about _Zombatman 2_ , but I like to think of this as an opportunity to have an open mind and choose to see goodness in the world instead of cynicism. Because that, at the end of the day, is what seeing movies is all about, my man. And I know I already said that on the group chat, but it's worth repeating."

…what the hell? Pretty much one-hundred-percent of this is sounding like brand-new information to Hiro. He's torn between laughing at Fred's antics, ignoring him and getting back to the computer, and just… wondering how he doesn't remember any of this.

And- they have a group chat?

"So?" He leans up on his elbows, so he can at least face Hiro, even if he's doing it from the couch like a little kid. "Thoughts? Zombie-related thoughts? You know which one you really want, dude."

For a second, Hiro just opens his mouth without saying anything- and shuts it again, because-

"Hiro?" He frowns, and actually sits up. "You alright?"

This is such a _stupid_ way to realize something- based on freaking zombie movies- and Hiro's head is spinning, and Fred's still looking at him without his usual smile, because now he's worried again-

Fred, who gets really excited about movie night, who genuinely tried to suggest Hiro get some help, who spins jokes as easily as other people breathe, who'll do anything to make his friends laugh and feel better and see the world with more hope. Fred, who he- he doesn't know.

The thought slams into him like a train.

"Bud?"

He's been thinking of Fred as slightly annoying, pushy, loud, excitable. And before that- too eager to rush into danger, still working on his aim with the fire, hoping to get better control of the superjump, not great with stealth missions- because that's what Hiro knows about him.

He was a good distraction, the couple times they had a real fight. He was able to hold his own while the others got in some good hits- and then, when Yokai's focus was somewhere else, Fred was able to jump in and throw him off with another brash and attention-grabbing series of attacks.

 _That's what Hiro knows about him._ And now, that's gone, too.

"Sorry," he says, rubbing his eyes so he has an excuse to stop looking at him. "Sorry, just- kinda zoned out, I guess."

The thoughts pour in, now, and he can't stop them. What _exactly_ did he ever have in common with Fred, besides- besides Tadashi, and then the team, and _Baymax_ \- and right now, literally all of that is gone.

The awkward silence is back. _Like it always is, because Hiro doesn't know how to talk to him- any of them- without Tadashi, because they're HIS friends- they always were-_

God. He's really only known them for a couple weeks.

And suddenly, with another person sitting only a few feet away from him, Hiro feels very, very alone.

" _-never should have let you-"_

It hits him, cold and strong and condemning, and he can't avoid the weight that seems to be pressing down on him again. And it's- all of them, now that he thinks about it. He doesn't really _ask_ them about their lives. Or normal, everyday stuff. Earlier, Fred asked if he talks to any of them about… the hard things, the painful things, but he hasn't even talked about the _stupid_ things. Movie night. Stories from high school. How they met. Hell, how they met his brother. Another random example jumps into the forefront of his mind- he's not a-hundred-percent sure Wasabi's first name is Barry. He's _pretty_ sure, but no one ever uses it, so…

It hits him, again, that it's really only been _weeks._ And here he is, trying to pretend like- like they're his _friends,_ like he thinks he deserves to- to-

"-hear what I said?"

He snaps to the present, realizing that he missed whatever Fred was asking him. He fights another yawn, and rubs at his face again- "Sorry," he repeats, which is basically becoming automatic at this point. "I'm just- I'm not really…"

"Dude." Fred's not smiling, but frowning in worry- it's an expression Hiro almost never sees, with him. "…You sure you're alright?"

…

For some reason, that strikes Hiro as a really stupid question.

…

He shrugs, and lies. "It's been a day," he mumbles. "Just… need to get some sleep, probably."

"Hah. Yeah." It sounds weirdly sarcastic, almost, but coming from Fred… probably not, right? And Fred's looking down at the ground, so he can't really read his face. It's tough not to immediately think that he's lying again, and Fred knows it.

He feels like an impostor.

" _-let you help me-"_

Fred stands, suddenly, and puts his hands in his pockets. "Well," he says brightly- another dissonant change, like he's stepped into a performance or something- "Good to hear things are going well, man. Probably see you around?"

Dimly, he hears himself say something in the affirmative, some _sure_ or _cool_ or _yeah_ , and pretty soon Fred's waltzing out of the garage, as if… Hiro bites down, and doesn't finish the thought, because the words 'everything's fine' are _really_ starting to sound obnoxious for some reason.

It's really, really quiet without Fred.

…Well, that's just true in general, he thinks wryly. It doesn't make him smile. And if he closes his eyes, or keeps sitting here without moving- not just the exhaustion, but the memory of the whole conversation keeps turning over in his head, making him feel like there are weights on his arms and legs, like he can't do anything else but _think_ , and shrink down until he's crushed by all of it.

But-

It's-

…it's alright.

"Unbelievable," he says out loud, and it kind of startles him because he's not sure what he's referring to. He flexes his shoulders back, and there's a crack in his spine- his knuckles click, and his neck sort of hurts when he stands up to stretch briefly.

He has no intention of 'getting some sleep'.

But hey, what's one more lie?

…

…

…

…

…

…

When you've been running an independent restaurant as long as Cass Hamada has, the work is no longer complicated, nor is it particularly difficult. However, it remains _busy._

Hikari quit five days ago, since she finally got into the internship she was hoping for. And Andrew is down to only about ten hours a week, and mostly Saturdays and Sundays, since school has started back up; in effect, half of the Lucky Cat's part-time employment has dried up just like that. She is, as much as she hates to admit it, actually a bit glad that business has been slow recently; with how shortstaffed the restaurant is, there's no way they'd be able to make it through each dinner rush otherwise. And she _can't_ keep asking Mr. Youzu to help out in the mornings, even if he _is_ such a sweetheart that he obliges every time.

And T-

…and _Hiro_ never helped out that much, to begin with; even less so, with his current schoolwork. In short, she's drastically shorthanded, and she needs employees.

Which is what makes it so surprising, when Ethel Tomago waltzes through the front door of the café and slams a résumé down on the counter.

…Or maybe not that surprising, she supposes. She does have a 'Help Wanted' sign up in the window, after all.

"Really?" she says, hesitantly. "I mean- by all means, I'd love to have you on staff, but… I thought one of Hiro's friends was telling me that you just got a job at that skate shop?"

Ethel scowls. "Didn't work out. Times were tough, so they ditched the newbie. I didn't have a chance."

That detail strikes her as odd- why would any store be hiring, in the same week they need to cut labor- but she lets it slide. "Well, legally I need to look over this and let you know in a few days, but…" She gives the girl a warm smile. "I don't mind telling you that the job is yours, if you want it. I already know you're a hard worker, and passionate, and a good friend-"

Her voice slips, but she keeps up the smile. "And I'm sure you already know, we really, really need more employees."

"Glad to help." A bubble of gum swells up, and pops- bright blue, this time. Ethel shakes Cass's hand, then dips her head forward and flicks her fingers off her right temple- a sort of 'aye aye, Captain' type of salute. Or something. Cass honestly doesn't understand half of what young people are _saying_ these days, let alone their farewell gestures.

Normally, she'd ask Hiro, probably getting them both into a snarky, good-natured argument about 'millenials' and all that.

But. Well. Not so much, recently. With how busy he's been.

Ethel's made her way towards the other end of the café, vanishing in the scattered tables near the entrance- Cass busies herself with straightening up some of the odds and ends behind the register, keeping one eye on the entryway in case new customers come in. Hopefully, it won't get too much busier. She's already practically daydreaming about how much a single extra employee- for that matter, one who's competent, has held other jobs, and isn't a rambunctious sixteen-year-old only legally allowed to work a few hours after school- will cut back on how _hectic_ things have been recently.

A stray thought makes her hesitate, as she's rearranging the napkin holders.

…Tadashi really helped out more than she realized. Never asking for pay- he just considered it helping out family.

She's left to her thoughts for a while, as a young couple spends five minutes trying to decide which coffee to try, and she takes their order on autopilot; she's already saying 'thank you' and 'have a nice day' before she consciously thinks back to what they asked for. The computer says 'medium dark chocolate mocha', so she must have punched that in, right?

The money's already in the register. Cass blinks, and the couple's walking over to one of the tables by the cream and sugar. Nobody waiting to order, at the front. It's even somewhat quiet. She's been distracted before, but this… seems different.

Once again, just her and her thoughts.

Something else to think about. Anything. She shakes her head, and glances toward the stairway leading to the rest of the building- Hiro's holed up in his room, again, likely studying. She wonders if he'll come down to see his friends. Probably not.

She's not sure why she thinks so, but probably not.

The next time she glances up, Gary's approaching the register. Cass does a quick scan of the dining room- she'll have to send somebody to bus those tables near the back, but that can wait until Nicki's finished with the last couple kitchen orders- and mentally runs through a checklist of everything that needs to be done. Andrew is already making the mocha, and the kitchen's under control, and everyone else has their order already, so… they're fine, for now.

"Morning," she says brightly. Of the usual gang, she's found herself talking to Gary more and more- _Wasabi,_ she has to remind herself. That's what Hiro calls him, and it's what Tadashi used to- it's even how he was introduced to her (by Fred, with a giggling smirk, much to Gary's chagrin as he tried to keep a dignified look and politely shake her hand even though Fred was already halfway into a story about food stains and a cafeteria lunch that got out of control). And maybe it's his respectful attitude, or his relative calmness that balances out the others' loud energy- but whatever it is, he's the first one of the group to make her consider that, maybe, there are other people who know what this is like. Even if they're not the exact same situation.

After all, they cared about him too.

"Hey," he says. His eyes dart around, like he's a little nervous, but he coughs like he's trying to play it off. "Two, uh, cinnamon rolls- and one of the raspberry, cream, like… what do you call it." He sheepishly points to the display case. "That one."

"Sure. Two rolls and a 'that one'," she chuckles. "Coming right up." She takes them out with the paper sleeves, swapping them for the credit card Gary holds up. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you not to eat it all at once."

"Right. Honestly, I don't even like cinnamon." He sighs. "Go Go forgot to order when she was over here."

"So she made you do it?" When the card is approved, she hands it back. "Ooh, you should tell her that'll hurt her chances of getting hired."

He grins. "Perfect. I love it." The pastries are slid in front of him on a tray, but he pauses before picking it up. "I, uh…"

"Yes?" Cass is sure she's not imagining it- he looks nervous, and unsure, and just _awkward._ It's a funny look for any college-age adult, let alone one who towers over her by more than a foot.

"It's just-" Gary's looking down at his shoes, but he pauses and seems to gather his resolve. "I was talking to Honey, and we…" Finally, he looks up at her and holds eye contact, at least for a moment. "We wondered, um- if it's not too personal, and- you know, it's already been a few weeks, like…"

She swears, he's never going to actually say it, whatever it is. Just before she interrupts to try to lighten the situation, he takes a deep breath. "How've you been doing?" he blurts out, probably a little louder than he meant to.

Oh.

…Right.

It sends her for a loop, because- well, that just wasn't a question she expected to be answering today. Most of the well-wishers and the sympathetic shoulder-pats as customers pass her… they've moved on. The trite sayings, and the 'time heals all wounds'-s, and the 'I'm so sorry for your loss'-es, and the surprising amount of casseroles that have been brought to her front door… it's mostly over and done, by now. Not that she misses it, because that was a trial of patience and understanding in itself- everyone seemed to think they were the first to offer her advice and wisdom, never realizing that most days, their cute little musings on grief and moving on were the _last_ thing she wanted to hear-

Still. This is… kind of nice. The people who really, truly knew Tadashi, and cared about him? Them, she'll listen to.

So she pauses, and honestly takes her time before answering. "Thank you," she says at last. "I'm… not sure, I suppose."

He nods, and doesn't say anything- which, again, is _such_ a relief, because if Gary wanted to use the question as an opportunity to throw his own perfect life advice her way, she'd probably kick him out this instant. "Everyone seems to have their piece to say," she says ruefully. "And it's… strange, because you don't really know- who to listen to. Or, what to expect, or what to… do at all, really." The sentence doesn't make perfect sense, and she frowns before continuing. "But most of the time, none of that matters, because- all I know is that-"

There's a hitch in her throat, and it catches her off-guard. But she's not going to cry, here, in the sight of God and the whole restaurant. "I just miss him," she says quietly, with a half-shrug, as if to say, _That's all there is to it._

"Yeah," he says, glancing back down. "…Yeah."

There's a gap in the conversation, moderate silence buffered by the quiet hum from the customers on the other side of the room.

"What about Hiro?"

He sounds apologetic, like he's still not sure if it's alright to ask. Cass opens her mouth to say something, but stops.

…what about Hiro, indeed?

"He's… alright," she says slowly. "I think. I mean, he- of course, he has his… days. But that's- that's to be expected, right?" She's afraid her voice probably cracks upward on the last word, betraying how unsure she is- but Gary only nods again, looking deep in thought himself. "It seems like things are getting better. And I want to say they are, for certain, but…"

Gary has his hands in his pockets, hunched a bit like the words are making him shrink down. "But you never really know?" he says.

Cass nods, and decides not to trust her voice this time. Just… for a second. She'll be fine.

"Right." With another sigh, quieter this time, Gary looks up again. "We were- uh, we were thinking it over, and… I wondered, if- if maybe-"

There's something else, clearly, something specific- but he shakes his head, suddenly, and straightens. "Never mind," he mumbles. It's so unlike him- normally articulate, and direct, and seeming at ease in any conversation. Now, though, he looks like he's having an unending debate in his own mind.

Frowning, Cass tilts her head. "Are you sure?" she asks. "You can say it, if-"

"No, no. It's fine." He blinks a few times. "It's nothing. Anyway, uh-" It's sudden, with a change in tone that suggests he's done talking about… whatever _that_ was. "It's cool that you're willing to give her a chance. Money's tight for everyone, so…" He shrugs again. "I'm glad."

She has to process for a second before she realizes he's talking about Ethel. "Oh! With the application. Absolutely." Cass pauses, and frowns over a particularly frustrating memory. "Besides, I… know what it's like to get fired right away, for something that's not even your fault."

"Yeah, it's-"

Gary stops, then gives her a suspicious eyes-narrowed look, quickly glancing back over the café. Then back to her. "Not her fault?"

"Sounded like the shop was having money problems, so they axed the newest hire." She frowns. "Is… that's what happened, right?"

He blinks, then heaves a sigh. "I'll be right back."

Before Cass can say anything, he's stomping through the maze of tables and booths- she sees him talking to Ethel briefly, but her attention is distracted by a couple of regulars heading out the front door. Mrs. Mitsuha gives a cheery wave while her nephew adds, "Thanks again!" Cass waves in return with a smile, momentarily losing track of what she was focused on before-

-and suddenly both Gary and Ethel are in front of the register, still arguing. "You're _kidding_ me, right?" Gary says to her, with an incredulous high pitch in his voice. "Go, you can't just-"

"Later, Miss H, thanks for the food," Ethel says quickly, but Gary cuts her off- he's blocking the door like a bouncer at a club, or something, And Cass can't decide whether to laugh or be really, really confused.

She settles on the second. "I'm… sorry?"

"Well?" Gary's just staring Ethel down, now, not blinking.

Ethel blows another bubble. "I don't know what you mean," she says in a monotone.

"It's really, _really_ not good to lie to your boss, you know," he says. His arms are folded, with a stern reproach in his voice that almost reminds her of Tadashi. "You could make the argument for 'illegal', too."

"Um-"

"I didn't lie," Ethel says, with only the slightest hint of worry in her normally-impassive expression. "I just didn't go into every detail. You want me to explain what I had for breakfast that morning, too? Or traffic on the way in?"

" _Some_ details," Gary says with a frown, "are more important than _others_." He gives her a meaningful… look, of some kind? Like he wants to say more, but he also wants her to say something. Cass doesn't know. This is confusing. Also, she's beginning to worry that perhaps 'good family friends' doesn't always equate to 'good employees'.

"Would either one of you _please_ explain what's going on?"

"I didn't lie," Ethel insists again. "The skate shop had some issues going on, and they got rid of the newest hire."

"Issues?" Gary repeats, dumbfounded. "Go, are you seriously going to make me tattle on you? Like we're in fourth grade or something?"

Cass sighs. This situation is getting ridiculous. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do." She reaches behind her- picking the résumé back up from the counter- and grabs Ethel's arm before walking briskly towards the nearest table. She pulls out a chair, and steps to the other side and sits down before Ethel has the chance to give her a bemused, wide-eyed glance. "Welcome to your official job interview at the Lucky Cat Café."

"I thought you said I already-"

" _Miss Ethel Tomago_ ," she says with a tone that's been perfected, over years of dealing with Hiro's shenanigans. "Would you _kindly_ describe the details of your most recent termination of employment?"

The girl blinks at her, more lost and surprised than Cass has ever seen her before- and yeah, she may have gone a _little_ overboard with this, but she's stressed. Give her a break. "Uh- the, um, official policy of the- I didn't fully understand when I started working, so-"

Cass is about to interrupt her stammering, but Gary suddenly cuts in. "So this guy's trying to shoplift some headphones, right, and then-"

"I'm sorry, sir," she says- a bit too officious, and a bit too loud, _wow_ , she's getting a bit carried away, but honestly, seeing these college kids so flustered is kind of fun- and glares at him. "You'll have to wait in the lobby until the interview has finished. Please and thank you."

Gary blinks with his mouth open, then glances at the open café lobby around him, as if to say, _but- but that's where we are right now,_ but Ethel finally gets her voice back. "This punk was trying to rob the store. My manager stopped him, so he panicked and started swinging. I, um, I stepped in after the first punch."

She's talking _awfully_ quickly, and that 'um' is about as inconspicuous as the way Hiro always taps his fingers in a pattern when he's lying. Cass starts, "So you-"

' _Stepped in,_ sure," Gary mutters at the same time.

"And there's this bullsh- uh, this _dumb_ policy rule that employees aren't supposed to do that," Ethel says in a rush. "So, yeah. That's that. Obviously won't happen again."

" _Seriously,_ Go Go, you're-"

"Gary! Please!" Cass doesn't even look at him. It's very possible that the few people eating at the other tables are staring at them, but she doesn't care at this point. "Ethel. Explain. _If you would."_

"Fine," she says quickly, like she means to say it all at once. But the hesitation comes back. Cass folds her arms, and waits. "I… may have grabbed both his arms, so he couldn't keep trying to hit anyone," she mumbles. Slowly. Eventually.

Cass raises an eyebrow, and says nothing.

Ethel stares back, but only for a few seconds before she caves. "…And picked him up. And flipped him over the counter by the register."

Well then. Cass doesn't show any surprise, even though _Good God,_ she's considering hiring some kind of adrenaline-junkie… _superhero,_ or something. Or a lawsuit waiting to happen. Or both. "Anything else?"

"That's all I did! Then security showed up." Once again, she tries to maintain eye contact, even though she's clearly holding something else back. Gary gives a not-subtle nudge to the back of her chair, and fuming, she finally looks down again. " _And maybe I fractured his wrist,"_ she spits out quickly.

Aaaaand the pieces suddenly fit together. Cass scowls. "…You said the shop was having financial troubles, so they cut the newest hire."

Every other time she's ever encountered this girl, Ethel hasn't shown any fear in the slightest- but Cass swears she's actually shrinking in her seat right now. "I think I said 'hard times'."

"Right. The 'hard times', in this case, being you."

That determined glare is back, but Ethel doesn't say anything else.

It occurs to Cass that having this conversation in full view of the café's patrons _may_ not have been the best idea- even if she still wanted to hire Ethel, everyone just heard her admit to what happened at her last job. Against her better judgment, she risks a glance around the café- of the several people looking their direction, all of them turn away as if they hadn't been caught eavesdropping, with a few embarrassed red faces and muttered apologies here and there.

"Good for her!"

Erm. All except one.

Mrs. Matsuda raises a cup of tea, a beaming smile on her kindly face as she shrugs. "If you don't mind me saying, Cassie, that sounds like the sort of no-nonsense attitude we could use a bit more of in this city! And, young miss, I don't mean to intrude- but could I perhaps buy you a pastry?"

It's tough to guess who's more surprised: Cass herself, or- when she turns back- Gary and Ethel, who have vaguely identical expressions of bewildered confusion.

…It's been a strange day.

Cass kills a few seconds by looking back down at the résumé, but she's not really reading it at all- she's turning over a couple of thoughts in her mind, before she puts them to words. "I think," she says carefully, waiting until Ethel is focused on her again, "that I'm going to let you know my decision in a few days."

"…Oh!" She blinks, and her mouth twitches like she can't decide what expression to show. "Uh. Right. Then- I- thank you." She reaches out her hand, then seems to change her mind and stand up first- so it awkwardly looks like she pulls away from Cass's handshake in return. "Sorry," she mumbles when they finally shake hands. "I meant to- yeah- the, um, thank you."

"You're very welcome." She smiles, partly out of politeness and partly because Gary Whitaker has a look on his face like a computer frozen on a loading screen. "Thanks for coming in."

"Yeah." Ethel almost blows a bubble with the gum again, but stops at the last minute and coughs instead. "And. Er. I'm honestly sorry that I didn't tell you the whole truth. That was- that was wrong, and there's really no excuse for it. And- yeah." She trails off, looking more uncomfortable by the second.

…See, if only conversations with Hiro could go this smoothly.

"Apology accepted," she says with another smile. Gary looks at least somewhat satisfied, now, like his friendship/responsibility-monitoring duties have been fulfilled; she's suspecting more and more that he must be the parent-friend of the group. "Feel free to take Mrs. Matsuda up on that offer, and…" The official job-interview act is getting tiring, so she lets her cheery expression fall and heaves out a breath. "Look, you're lucky we need help. And that Tadashi spoke so well of his friends, and their character."

Ethel still looks somewhat dazed. "…Lucky. Right."

"Lucky _Cat,"_ somebody calls over from the back of the restaurant. " _Eyyyyyy."_

" _Fred, I swear-"_ Ethel hisses, but stops herself and turns back to Cass. "Right. I understand."

O-kay, apparently Fred's here too. She didn't see him right away, but now that she looks, his beanie is unmistakable- a yellow and orange one, today, sticking out over the other customers thanks to his tall frame. He's grinning smugly at Ethel's barely-controlled fuming, and… it seems he was watching this whole awkward exchange. Cass briefly marvels at how quickly she's been drawn into this strange and dysfunctional web of college student friendships. And drama.

"So, Go Go, if somebody tries to sneak an extra donut," Fred says cheerfully, "do you think that's a full bodyslam situation? Or more of an uppercut-roundhouse-combo type of thing?"

And bad jokes. Apparently, she's a part of this, now. And it's not even through Hiro, this time.

"You can't really talk, Freddie," the girl next to him says casually. She's typing away on a laptop, and her long hair- not tied up this time, but Cass is pretty sure it usually is- keeps her face from view, for now. "Last summer, you were convinced she was a professional baseball cheerleader."

"Hey, that's totally a reasonable job! That could be a thing!"

"It _isn't_ , though," Gary says, and pretty soon the four of them are all huddled around their table again, arguing and laughing like they didn't just witness the strangest interview Cass has ever been a part of. Some of the goofy, laidback joy is a bit contagious, and Cass finds herself smiling even as she heads back to the counter.

For a moment.

She realizes two things, as customers come and go, money changes hands, and the café bustles the way it always does. One, that she doesn't see _Hiro_ looking that happy, too often. And when she does, it's nearly always when he's with them.

Two, she- she hasn't _herself_ been a part of a group like that-

…

She pushes the thought away. This is no time to feel sorry for herself, or unreasonably lonely. She's not _alone,_ after all, because she has… well, besides Hiro, she has quite a few customers who've come to know her pretty well, and…

She gives change. She recommends a few iced coffees. She picks up after a few tables, asks Nicki to take care of the others, and says a couple of warm farewells when the meal rush dies down.

…There's extended family, of course, but they're… a few states away, and she hasn't really kept in touch, since Lee and Kayla-

Eventually, Tadashi's friends head out. They're still laughing. Still talking. There are only a few people left, and the café is awfully quiet.

She hasn't thought about it in a while.

Lonely. Alone.

Exhausted.

Her hands aren't shaking, but it feels like they are- like the faint buzz of numb feeling when a limb falls asleep. She blinks, and looks down, and sees that her hands are clenched into tight fists of white knuckles.

…

The café's still busy.

She loosens her hands, ignoring the marks from her fingernails biting into her palms, and gets to work.

…

…

…

…

…

…

This may be a horrible mistake.

Hiro narrows his eyes, staring down at the unassuming screen of his phone. He must have turned notifications off, at some point- maybe to keep his phone silent in class?- and then forgotten to switch them back on, because just as Fred mentioned, there is indeed a group chat. Seems like it's been going strong for a while.

He leans back, sighing, and lets the rolling chair bend slightly as he glances up to the ceiling of the garage. He came out here to get some more work done, he tells himself halfheartedly. This is no time for messing around.

Besides, he isn't prepared. He doesn't think he ever _could_ be. In all likelihood, this is a terrible, awful, monumentally ill-advised decision.

But… against himself, he is kind of curious. And so, with great hesitation, he clicks the notification he's been ignoring until now.

He steels himself.

And begins typing.

 **[]**

" **Super Secret Magical Power of Friendship Squad, Hell Yeah™"**

 **[]**

 **Hiro_Hamada has joined the chat!**

 **[]**

 **Hiro_Hamada** :what

 **Hiro_Hamada** : um

 **Hiro_Hamada** : what is this exactly

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** :THE GRAETETS DAMN CHATROOM IN SF BOYO

 **Whassup_Bae** :It's not a chatroom, really. It's just us messaging each other with dumb nicknames.

 **Whassup_Bae** :...I mean.

 **Whassup_Bae** :You know. More so than usual.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** :'dumb nicknames' is like 90% of our friendship tbh

 **Whassup_Bae** : Yeah, I noticed the redundancy as soon as I typed it.

 **Hiro_Hamada** : …okay, I'm just gonna say it

 **Hiro_Hamada** : I'm not sure who you are

 **Hiro_Hamada** : Wasabi? I think?

 **Whassup_Bae** : Me? Yes.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Fred, I TOLD you these names were too confusing.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : AAAAH I JUST REALIZED, HIRO DOESN'T HAVE ONE YET

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : THIS MUST BE RECTIFIED IMMEDIATELY

[]

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption has changed Hiro_Hamada's name to 'Zero_to_Hiro'**

 **[]**

 **Zero_to_Hiro** :is this a game

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : am I losing

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : I feel like I'm losing

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : fred I just saw you misspell the word 'greatest' how on earth did you type 'rectified immediately' in like half a second with no mistakes

 **Whassup_Bae** : Oh, man, speaking of which.

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae has renamed the chat 'The Graetets'**

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae** :Perfection.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : exCUSE YOU

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption has renamed the chat 'The Graetets™'**

 **[]**

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** :oh no how could you I was gonna sell knockoff tshirts

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : just imagine

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : people looking at you and immediately thinking

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : that guy must truly be the graetets

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : lol

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : but now that its trademarked, I mean, what are we even doing here

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : that's it, we're done

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : game over man

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : peace out

 **[]**

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers has left the chat!**

 **[]**

 **Zero_to_Hiro** :wait, we can leave

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : NO

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : YOU CANOT

 **Whassup_Bae** : Run, Hiro.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : YOU BITE YOUR TONGUE SIR

 **Whassup_Bae** : Save yourself.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : nooooooooooo guys

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : go go is the only one who can leave!

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** :because we don't need that negativity in our super secret friendship squad anyway

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : wait

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I mean our magical secret power of

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : shit

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I can't remember what the name was before this

 **Whassup_Bae** : Truly, it has been lost to history.

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : just like Go Go

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : toO SOON

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : lol

 **Whassup_Bae** : That reminds me. Wouldn't Honey usually have responded by now?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I dunno

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : maybe she's busy?

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : shes probably the only one of us smart enough to stay away from this black hole of memes and madness

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : seriously fred Im 14 but even I know this is pretty embarrassing

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : memes and MAGIC you mean

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : its probably better if she doesn't join

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : as soon as she sees how terrible we all are shes gonna ditch this chat in a heartbeat

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption has renamed the chat 'MEMES AND MAGIC™'**

 **[]**

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : are you fricking serious fred

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : ring ring, hey Cass, Hiro said a naughty word

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : what's that? He's grounded? And ten year olds shouldn't use the internet anyway? Okay, I'll tell him

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : I said 'fricking' you dork

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : and iM 14 I JUST SAID THAT

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : now he's calling me names

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : this is cyberbullying

 **[]**

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin has joined the chat!**

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : oh my god it worked

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : summoned by the power of memes and magic

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : *™

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : Hey guys! Sorry, I didn't see my phone was going off

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : Lemme just read through the log for a sec, to see what I missed!

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : you may not want to do that, actually

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : uh oh

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : um

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : so, this is

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : well

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : HL, I know this looks really stupid and kind of embarrassing

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : but please

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I need you to stay

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : everyone else has turned on me

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : the poor and humble Freddie who just wanted to set up a cool chatroom

 **[]**

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin has left the chat!**

 **[]**

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : lol

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : DAMMIT

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : EVERYBODY BETRAYED ME

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I'M FED UP WITH THIS WORLD

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : wait is it just us now

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : whered wasabi go

 **Whassup_Bae** : Still here, actually. I just didn't say anything.

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : so you saw the whole saga

 **Whassup_Bae** : The grand history.

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : the epic tragedy

 **Whassup_Bae** : The complete masterworks.

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : the harrowing tale

 **Whassup_Bae** : The cautionary parable of an individual's rise to power, and the corruption of madness as he clings to control and desperately claws his way to glory, blind to the suffering and anger of those he once called 'friends'.

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : lol fred that's you

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption has renamed the chat 'You're All Dead to Me'**

 **[]**

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : harsh

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : but not unexpected

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : does it usually go like this in here?

 **Whassup_Bae** : You have no idea.

 **Whassup_Bae** : The bulk of this chat is just everyone changing the group name back and forth. And our own names. And, sometimes, each other's. Literally nothing of importance is ever achieved.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : um rude

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : wait wasabi were you just reading along this whole time

 **Whassup_Bae** : Well, since you asked-

 **Whassup_Bae** :I've been doing some quick research.

 **Whassup_Bae** : If anyone was wondering, a 'canot' is a small boat, usually made from a carved-out tree trunk.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Though, more commonly, it looks like it's just an old French term for 'canoe'.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Point being, Fred- very vehemently- called Hiro a small tree-boat.

 **Zero_to_Hiro** : oh my god

 **[]**

 **Zero_to_Hiro has changed Zero_to_Hiro's name to 'Small_Tree-Boat'**

 **[]**

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : at last

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : my lifelong aspiration

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : dammit Hiro

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : you change your name back this instant young man

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I WILL NOT LOSE CONTROL OF THIS CHATROOM

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae has renamed the chat 'Fred loses control of the chatroom'**

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : how

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : daRE

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : YOU

 **[]**

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers has joined the chat!**

 **[]**

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : oh good you're back

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : sup nerds

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : whatd I miss

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : man I dont even know where to begin

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : so basically Fred had a pretend conversation with himself, and whined a lot, and HL showed up and then immediately did the smart thing and left

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : there was some french in there at some point

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : im pretty sure we wrote a screenplay or something based on the great tragedy of fred it was great

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : so yeah that about sums it up any questions

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : …

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** :who the hell are you

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : HAH

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : MY NICKNAMES DON'T LOOK SO CONFUSING NOW, DO THEY?

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : go go Im kind of insulted

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : I mean obviously

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : I am

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : A small tree

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : That is also a boat

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : I dont understand whats unclear about this

 **Go_Go** _ **Power_Rangers** : okay, you're definitely Hiro

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : ?

 **Go_Go** _ **Power_Rangers** : easy

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : the sass, and also

 **Go_Go** _ **Power_Rangers** : you made yourself into a meme 10x faster than fred ever could

 **Whassup_Bae** : Oh my God, she's right.

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : I dont know if I should be insulted or proud

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I'm definitely both

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : insulted by you

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : and proud of myself

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : for having the strength and patience not to kick you out of this chat you insolent whippersnapper

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : insolent whippersnapper is my favorite indie band

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : insolent whippersnapper is my favorite weakass comeback

 **Whassup_Bae** : …Well, then.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : GASP

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : lol

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : ima wash your mouth out with soap

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : and GO GO I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON MY SIDE

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : well I was annoyed with Hiro

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : but then he started making fun of you, so y know

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : only human, and all that

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : uuuugh what did I do to deserve this

 **Whassup_Bae** : Well, you did start this group chat.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : and you filled p much all of our conversations with memes, so

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : and you specifically invited us

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : I don't know what you

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : actually wait

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : just a sec

 **Whassup_Bae** : Hiro? Everything okay?

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : …

 **Small_Tree-Boat** :

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : BETRAYAL OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : its not loading on my phone, what is it

 **Whassup_Bae** : In what I can only assume is a response to Fred's question, Hiro apparently set down his phone, grabbed some paper, wrote "I don't know what you expected" in sharpie, took a picture of himself holding it, and then sent that.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Instead of simply typing the phrase.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : savage

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : YOU WERE MY BROTHER ANAKIN

 **Whassup_Bae** : Seriously, that seems like a lot of extra work.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : 'extra' being the key word

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : worth it

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : if theres one thing I learned from fred, its that you can never go too far for memes

 **Go_Go** _ **Power_Rangers** : see Hamada gets it

 **Whassup_Bae** : You picked up on this awfully quickly. I'm impressed.

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : I mean this whole chat is basically just roasting fred, right

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** :right

 **Whassup_Bae** :That's probably the best description any of us have ever come up with.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Oh, wait.

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae has renamed the chat 'Basically just roasting Fred'**

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** :Yall scuk

 **[]**

 **Small_Tree-Boat has renamed the chat 'Yall scuk'**

 **[]**

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : I changed my mind, this is fun

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : UNGRATEFUL CHILD

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS CHAT, AND I CAN TAKE YOU OUT

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : wait actually

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : wasabi can he kick me out

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : does he have that kind of power

 **Whassup_Bae** : I don't know much about this chat program. So… possibly?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : haha you fools

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : you know not my true strength

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : you shall wait in prolonged anguish, always afraid of an avenging strike that may never come

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : my patience is my revenge

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : yeah nvm he can't do it

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I WASN'T FINISHED

 **Whassup_Bae** : I agree. That was definitely a bluff.

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : ill admit though that was a pretty sick monologue

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : maybe we ARE writing a screenplay about fred taking over the world

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : you are all

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : collectively

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : The Worst™

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : why always the trademark thing

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : I will come to your house and break the shortcut key you're using

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : and then leave

 **Go_Go** _ **Power_Rangers** : don't want to be creepy or anything

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : shortcut? you mean going to the symbol thing

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : what

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : the browser

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : you know?

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : no frickin way

 **Whassup_Bae** : Fred, are you saying that you stop typing, leave the chat, open up a separate program on your phone, choose the trademark symbol, then copy that into what you're going to say? Every time?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I mean is there a better way?

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : …

 **Whassup_Bae** : …

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : …

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : guuuuys

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : nobody tell him

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : GUUUUYS

 **Whassup_Bae** : Oh, wow, it's a lot later than I thought.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : we've been throwing shitty memes around for the better part of an hour so yeah

 **Whassup_Bae** : I'm kind of ashamed of all of us.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : as yOU SHOULD BE

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : FOR VARIOUS REASONS

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : wait fred one more thing I gotta tell you

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : WHAT

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I mean

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : whaaaaaaaaat

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : …

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : lol

 **[]**

 **Small_Tree-Boat has left the chat!**

 **[]**

Hiro sets down his phone, his smile fading slightly. It… _is_ getting awfully late.

…It was fun, though.

He scoots the chair closer to the desk, so he's looking right at his reflection in the computer screen just a few feet away. Okay. For real, this time. Gonna get some actual work done. Here we go.

…

For some reason, it's tough to focus.

A few times in high school, a certain project or research assignment _should_ have been a breeze- but for whatever reason, his work stalled until he felt like he was going to lose his mind if he had to look up another stupid article. This feels an awful lot like that. Except this time, he actually _cares_ , so it's even more frustrating. More than a couple articles result in dead ends, full of information that has nothing to do with what he's looking for. He stumbles on a promising database, early on, with varied contributions from professors and scientists at some of the biggest universities in the whole state- but sifting through all the irrelevant writing to find anything on AI restoration, or fixing damaged code, or bringing programs back online when they've been dormant for this long… is more challenging than he expected.

And on top of that, something about that stupid group chat is really, really bugging him.

So the garage is quiet, again, with the steady and faint hum of the monitor only accompanied by the _click_ of the mouse and, once in a while, the scattered tapping of keys as Hiro jots down notes from an article or a study he's found.

…

Anyone watching would see hardly any movement, at all. He blinks. Leans closer to read. Pushes the chair back, twice, both times reaching up to rub at his eyes.

…

There's a discrepancy. With the unimportant, goofy texts from earlier. Something that shouldn't bother him, but it _is_ bothering him- something wrong, something false, something prodding at him and brewing a deep, uneasy sense of guilt in his chest.

They were just stupid jokes. Why on earth should he feel _guilty_ about that?

…

At first, he makes an effort to keep track of what time it is. Sort of.

…

He doesn't realize he's started mumbling until he's halfway through a dissertation by an AI expert from Japan. The translation is more than a little bit clunky, and Hiro finds himself tripped up by the awkward wording more than once; eventually, he pulls open the original article and tries to translate the particular phrases himself.

…

It would probably seem silly, but the quiet musing as he reads it over _kind of_ seems to help, so whatever. The conclusion the author comes to by the end of page three seems… promising. Maybe. Hiro copies the four-point hypothesis, and inserts the paragraph into his own notes.

…

He'll be able to apply some of it tomorrow, if he has a chance to use the lab.

…

It might work.

…

He keeps looking, because he's only scratched the surface of _one_ of the major problems he'll have to confront with the chip. His eyelids are heavy, and there's a sluggish sense in his thoughts and the way he moves his hands over the keys, but- but he doesn't doze off.

…

…

…

Time passes.

…

…

…

He gets up twice; once for the bathroom, and again to grab an energy drink from the cupboard in the kitchen.

He bought them a week ago. They're hidden behind the two-thirds of a hand-me-down china set that they've never used. Aunt Cass hasn't noticed yet.

…

…

…

It's late. Paradoxically, it could just as easily be called 'early'. The sun isn't up yet, but he's dimly aware of a couple of headlights passing by the garage window once in a while. At first he dismisses it as late-night traffic, but… he forces himself to look at the timestamp on his monitor.

Crap. He hasn't made nearly as much progress as he'd hoped.

It's fine, he tells himself, taking another moment to lean back and rest his eyes from the screen. He'll finish up his analysis of this article- which, if he's on the right track, will provide some insight on the difference between restoring an existing AI code, and creating one from scratch- and then he'll call it a night. Morning. Whatever.

...He has class tomorrow.

 _Today._ Hell.

He cracks his knuckles, and leans in closer, and reads the first few lines out loud- once to get the gist, again to retrace a concept he didn't get the first time, a third time to try to memorize it. And stave off the feeling of exhaustion that is, increasingly, his constant companion.

He keeps reading, and speaking, and his voice sounds strangely loud in the quiet room, and…

…

…

…

…

…

…

Cass hears something.

Probably just Mochi, says her first thoughts. Then she listens more closely. It's quiet, but persistent- a low muttering, like the background noise of a TV that's been left on. She wonders if that's exactly what happened- but no, she's pretty sure she didn't even _watch_ any shows yesterday. Sure enough, when she steps into the living room, she's greeted by… absolutely nothing, except the lingering sense that she's sabotaging her own sleep schedule. And Mochi, curled up silently on the couch. Irritably, she sighs. She was already awake, tossing and turning after a fiftful night of semi-sleep, and only started walking through the halls with the intention of getting some water, and maybe reading a bit on the sofa to lull her back to sleep.

Though, now that she's here, she has a better sense of where the mysterious sound is coming from.

Getting to the garage requires moving through the dining area- after quietly drifting down the stairs, she makes her way past the tables and chairs. Part of the lobby is still arranged in an awkward cluster, from where the book club was determined to jam two tables together- Andrew was supposed to take care of it, but it seems he forgot- and closer to the register, the spill that she promised herself she'd get to tomorrow morning, where Mr. Ryuzaki insisted on sitting with his feet on the bench, and ended up spilling his tea all over the booth.

And the corner where the old-fashioned jukebox used to be, before it broke down. She's considered replacing it.

…The boys used to argue over what to play. Hiro always went for top-40 pop songs, or anything goofy and inappropriate for a family restaurant. And Tadashi was more likely to choose… classic rock, or sometimes…

Cass realizes she's stopped, in the middle of the floor.

…sometimes he'd just let Hiro pick.

She takes a deep breath, focusing on the bizarre muttering sound again, and approaches the entry to the garage- and it's _definitely_ coming from there. The handle is in her grasp, but she hesitates before opening the door. For all she knows, it could be- some animal, scurrying around the walls, or somebody looting through the assortment of objects that she hasn't cleaned out in _years,_ or even a robber trying to break in. For some reason, the worry and fear of a home invasion only hits her _now._ She lets go, and for a brief, terrified second, considers heading back to the bedroom, and ignoring it.

Or heading back to the kitchen, and getting a knife.

But the first thought is silly, and the second a little extreme; so Cass steels herself, and tries to calm the thumping heartbeat that feels like it's going to break out of her ribs, and opens the door-

Oh. Hiro's at the computer, talking to himself.

Huh.

"Cass!" he yelps, apparently so startled that the 'aunt' part of addressing her is out the window, and half-jumps backwards, so the computer chair starts skidding across the floor. When he finally keeps himself from toppling over, he straightens and looks at her with a completely blank face- like he has no idea what to say. He looks back to the computer, where- okay, in all honesty, given his over-the-top reaction, Cass was kind of expecting, um, something _else_ to be on that screen.

…What. She's raised two teenagers. She's not an idiot.

But no; the computer screen that Hiro frantically wheels back over to is… honestly, that really does look like homework. She can't see it that well from here, but there are walls of text, an open document full of notes, and an incredibly boring series of diagrams in the corner.

…Hiro was, apparently, doing homework. At five o'clock in the morning.

She realizes that she still hasn't said anything, and Hiro's probably feeling just as confused as she is by now- so she stifles a yawn, feeling the worry from a moment ago already fading. "Hiro," she says as sternly as she can while also starting another yawn. "…What are you doing?"

And she swears, he could _not_ look more guilty. There's another worried glance to the screen, which doesn't make any sense, because he's acting like there's something she's _not supposed to see_ , when this seems exactly the same as any of the other projects he's been working on since he started classes. Or, at least, they're as unintelligible to her.

He's probably just embarrassed at being caught, working in the wee hours of the morn-

Wait a minute.

"Hiro," she repeats, feeling very much like she's _going_ to have a headache shortly.

"Just- working on homework, and stuff," he says rapidly. He taps a few keys, possibly saving his work, then turns back to her and blinks a few times. "I, uh- I have a lot of catching up to do, so…"

When his words trail off into mumbles, she pinches the bridge of her nose. "Hiro Hamada," she says. "Please tell me you happened to wake up incredibly early."

"W-wha-" For a minute, he stutters like music that's skipping in the same spot over and over. And she cringes, because he looks _so_ tired. "I mean, I'm-"

" _Hiro."_

"I- I was-"

"Hiro, please. Please. Do _not_ tell me you've been up all night."

Cass isn't sure of it until she sees him glance off to the side, like he's already been caught. And then his left hand is tapping out a rhythm on his knee.

He even audibly gulps.

…Dear God.

"Oh, _no,"_ she groans, and leans back slightly against the doorframe. Has he… been doing this often? She doesn't check the garage too much; if she's being honest, the room is simply too much of a 'Tadashi' place to be. And she certainly hasn't explored it at night. So… for all she knows, he could be getting this small, painful, incredibly unhealthy amount of sleep _every_ night. "Hiro, you can't… you _can't."_ Great. Now, she's the one with the sleep-deprived drop in vocabulary.

"It's not a big deal," he insists, and reaches up to rub at his eyes- and Cass is pretty sure he's hiding a yawn, too, like he knows how much it would undercut his statement. "I just had to take care of this, and- and I'll be fine. I'll be ahead, now, so…" He's floundering, at this point.

So she cuts him off. "You're smarter than this, Hiro!" He flinches back, and she lowers her voice slightly. "You know how much anyone needs sleep- let alone a growing boy who's in his first semester of college! It's not like-"

"That's exactly it, though," he says in a rush that sounds like he's tripping over his own words. "I mean, now that classes have really started getting busy, I need to make sure I'm not slacking or anything, because if- if I don't put in the work, then I'm gonna fall behind, and I know that's not what I want, and that's not what you want, either, so I have to just keep up. That's all. It's, you know, it's fine."

She really wishes he'd stop saying things are 'fine'. "I understand that, but-"

"Isn't that what you were telling me?" he asks quickly, and doesn't give her a second to answer. "Like, back before I applied, with the showcase and everything-"

"Hiro-"

"I'm just saying, it doesn't make a lot of sense, right," he says, and his voice is higher, more energized, kind of joking, kind of scared-looking, kind of- angry? "I mean, you're not really gonna tell me to do less work for school, right?"

"I'm not trying to-"

"Because first it was all 'Oh, you're not doing enough with your potential', and 'you should be trying to find a good college', and now it's like- like- like we're saying the opposite, and-" He looks so _jittery_ , like the bags under his eyes and the tired look on his face are the only things keeping him from jumping off the walls. "What do you want me to _do,_ you know? I mean- I- what do you want me to do?"

It's so bizarre, because he's saying it lightly, as if he's trying to keep the words funny and jovial- or like he's panicking. She frowns, and folds her arms in front of her. "I want you to be getting enough sleep, first of all," she says, keeping her tone steady in contrast. "And if that means cutting back on homework, then so be it-"

"It's not just _homework_ ," he blurts out. It almost echoes in the garage- Cass sees him blink and open his mouth again, like he's surprised by what he just said.

Okay. That worry is starting to come back again.

"I mean, it's- it's not, like, just some everyday assignment, where, oh, yeah, sure, I can just work on it and it's finished and we're done, hooray," he says so quickly she can hardly keep up. His hand is tapping out a crazy beat on the counter next to the keyboard. "There's all this- this research, and all this other stuff, and I'm trying to finish it as quick as I can-"

"Sure." She holds her hands out, like she's trying to calm down Mochi or something- it feels incredibly strange as soon as she does it, and she winces. "Alright. That's important, and… you're right, because college is- I'm sure it's a new level, and I'm sure there's a lot of work, but… Hiro, you _need_ to take care of yourself! If you don't let yourself get enough sleep, then you're not going to be able to do _anything_ well, let alone focus on your work. You understand that, right?"

This is really not the conversation she expected to be having with Hiro. Tadashi, maybe. Hiro? Not so much.

"No, right, of course!" He's still speaking so quickly she can hardly understand, like he has a time limit on his sentences. "Yeah, I know that, but I know- I know how much sleep I need, and I know when I'm fine, because it's _me,_ you know, and I- sometimes you just have to put in extra time, right, because there's not enough time for everything, but that's college in a nutshell, right, like cramming for papers and studying and everything, because that's what- I mean, that's what Go Go and the others always say, when they're talking about, like, finals and stuff." Good Lord, Cass is pretty sure that was all _one_ _breath._ "And I just think that, honestly, this isn't really that uncommon, because if you think about it I'm kind of a freshman, and I'm trying to get a handle on all this for the first time, and I'm sure it'll get easier eventually, but for now I just need to knuckle down and do the work, you know?"

The surreal nature of this moment is only getting worse. Cass briefly wonders if she's dreaming, because she's _never_ seen Hiro arguing that he should be doing _more_ homework, and definitely never while he seems so exhausted and paradoxically tense at the same time, as if he's- Good Lord in heaven, is he on drugs?

She shuts down that thought in an instant, because she can only be freaking out about so many things at once, thank you very much. "No. Hiro, listen to me- you're not sleeping enough. It's obvious. That's all there is to say."

And her heart sinks, because he's _still_ trying to make his case. "No, seriously, I'm fine! I mean, I'm _gonna_ be fine. I'll be able to pass my classes, and I'll catch up, and- and I just have to put in a little more work."

The early morning is probably getting to both of them, because it takes Cass a moment to realize he isn't even saying anything new; he's only repeating a few things he already stated twice. She's about to fire back- probably, sending the argument into a never-ending tailspin that won't end with anyone happy- but something about his look makes her pause.

She's not sure what, exactly- his eyes are as nervous as before, and his fingers are still twitching, and he's still hunched over like he's about to pass out here and now. But… Cass has to wonder what's going on in his head.

"Hiro," she says, even though he probably hates it when she says his name out loud multiple times in a conversation. "You… you know I'll always be proud of you, no matter what. Right?"

Absolute silence. She's pretty sure her nephew is frozen to his seat. For a second, he doesn't even look away- it's like whatever he was going to say has been stolen out of his lungs, and he's left with nothing.

Then he's back, nodding like nothing happened. "No, yeah, of course!" he says in a rush. "I know that. Yeah. That's not it. I'm not-"

Hiro snaps his mouth shut in the middle of the sentence, and… yeah, great, just throw Suspicious Thing #62 on the list, because this has been the strangest discussion Cass has ever had with him. "Then what _is_ it?" she presses, suddenly worried that there's something else going on here.

"Nothing's 'it'!" he explodes, loud and shrill. "It's fine! I'm- I'm fine. Just stop worrying about me, okay? I'm- nothing's wrong!"

"Please don't lie to me," she says, trying to stay calm and nonthreatening. On the inside, though, she's panicking- what exactly is she supposed to do, if he starts hyperventilating or something? Even after the fire, he's never seemed this… freaked out.

"I'm not _lying!"_ And strangest of all, he actually tries to grin through all this- like he can suddenly just change his tone, right back to carefree and peaceful. "What- what do you want? What do you want me to do? It's like, you keep asking me over and over, but I don't know what you actually want from me-"

"I want you to know you can talk to me!" Cass says. "I just- I want you to be happy, and stay healthy, and I don't want you to be staying up all night on your computer, and…"

And she realizes something. "I'm talking to you right now," Hiro blusters, sarcasm seeping through, still seeming like he's putting on some kind of act. "We're talking, right? Look! We're talking! It's great! We're fine!"

…Yes, they're talking.

They've argued like this, sometimes. Or, they've talked about everyday things in the café. Or Hiro's classes. Or things happening around town. Or Mochi. But-

"So," Hiro says, cutting through the quiet. "I'm- I'm gonna go… shower, and everything." Abruptly, he gets up from the computer chair- and Cass is pretty sure she doesn't imagine the bit of dizzy swaying, before he rights himself- and heads for the exit.

But they've never sat down and talked about Tadashi. Or the fire.

"Hiro, wait."

And… she's been so wrapped up in worry, and uncertainty, and 'I don't know what I'm doing', that she hasn't actually… taken the time to _try_ to talk to him.

"What?" he snaps over his shoulder, barely slowing down.

Cass pauses. What's she doing? She's just going to- bring it up? Out of nowhere? When they're both exhausted, and angry, and ready to give up on the day before it's even started? But she pushes all that away, and tries to keep her voice as clear as she can. "I- I think, we should… talk about what happened."

Now, he does stop. He's looking at her, and- she can't tell what he's thinking. His eyes are frozen, like a doll's. He could be thinking anything in the world.

"You don't need to-" It's been building for a while, but when the tears clog her voice and make her hesitate, it's still an unwelcome surprise. "We can't just never mention it, like it never- like we're not-" Cass clears her throat, and tries again. "I want us to be able to _talk_ , and not just the things that are easy to talk about, and- and if we can't even say his name, then…"

He blinks, once.

"Tadashi."

And now his hands are jammed in his pockets- he makes for a shadowed, mutinous figure, glaring up at her from the darkened space between the garage lights and the door leading to the rest of the building. "There's nothing magic about his name," he mumbles, scowling. "Tadashi. Whatever. We don't need to…" He shakes his head. "This isn't even about him."

"Then what _is_ it about?" she says immediately. "Please, just tell me! Then-"

"It's not about _anything!_ " Hiro spreads his hands wide, with an incredulous break in his voice. "There isn't any 'it'! There's no-" He grits his teeth, and both hands clasp against the sides of his head. "Nothing's wrong, okay?! Except that you _think_ something's wrong, all the time! Maybe that's the problem!" He's talking quickly again, like he can't control the words flying out. "So let's talk about that, huh? Why do you always think I'm not okay? Why are you- why isn't-" He stops, eyes closed, still frowning and breathing hard-

And then he spins to the door and stomps into the house.

...

Cass can't say anything, for a moment.

…

She considers chasing him down- ' _this conversation isn't over, young man'-_ but she can already hear him clomping up the stairs to the attic, and… suddenly, she can't bring herself to drag this out anymore.

Eventually, she follows his lead, of stepping through the threshold and back into the main building.

…It's been a while, since she felt this awful.

…

…

…

…

…

…

Hiro's only ever stayed up all night twice before- once, when he was eleven, for a video-games-and-junk-food-binge with Tadashi on a summer weekend (which barely counts, because he could sleep as much as he wanted the next day), and once when he was thirteen, during a particularly tough stretch of finals in his senior year of high school. Slogging through classes the next morning was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He swore he'd never do it again.

…

So.

This is fun.

By his count, he's dozed off five times. Three during lectures: two with an accompanying rebuke from the prof, and one non-reaction from a somewhat apathetic Professor Aizawa, who- Hiro can only assume- saw him sleeping, shrugged, and continued teaching until the bell at the end of the hour startled him awake.

The fourth one was when he fell asleep at the lunch tables. He woke up with his face in a plate of barbecue chicken. He may or may not have a reputation as 'sleepy chicken kid' now, and he has a sinking feeling the name's gonna make its way to Fred and get Official Nickname Status eventually.

…No one will ever know about the fifth one. He will never in his _life_ tell anybody that he briefly fell asleep while sitting on the toilet. That one's going to the grave with him.

A-hem. The _point_ is, it's not the greatest day of happy funtime adventures to begin with. He's more or less given up on being productive or engaging in any of his assignments, so the afternoon boils down to watching the clock, fighting to stay awake, and powering through until he's done for the day. He can doze for an hour or two after classes, if he really needs to.

When that finally rolls around, he heads to the lab and sequesters himself in a far corner- his usual spot is already taken, by some upperclassman who's spending more time checking Facebook than actually working on anything. Half-entertaining thoughts of hacking into the guy's profile remotely, just for the satisfaction of seeing the look on his face, Hiro tries his best to knuckle down and not be distracted.

This plan is, he discovers quickly, not working.

It's a vicious cycle, of three different mindsets that all keep his head swimming and his thoughts muddled and lost. _None_ of which, by the way, are conducive to researching or getting anything done in general. And all of which really, really make him feel like dirt.

One, falling asleep. Trying not to fall asleep. Scolding himself for falling asleep. Slapping at his face, getting a crappy soda from the vending machine in the hall, chugging said soda and feeling kinda sick, still falling asleep a little. Repeat.

Two, work hitting an absolute wall. He's pretty sure if he was more lucid right now, he'd be in an absolute panic, because _this is impossible._ With the fighting bots, he only had to link up possible actions to inputs from the controller, and with the microbots, he was able to sync them up with specific thoughts. Yeah, it was pretty friggin' bizarre, but there was a link, at least. With AI, though- he's going to have to rewrite code that doesn't _have_ any input commands, because the AI is supposed to also create those inputs and _make its own decisions_ which, honestly, is SO MUCH MORE complicated than Hiro realized it would be. He's drowning in academic papers and articles on the nitty-gritty details of coding and advanced software development, and he can't get rid of the stupid, inescapable, childish thought that keeps popping up, before anything else, any time he's faced with a new problem- _I should ask Tadashi what he thinks first._ It just keeps happening.

Three… well, the third one is a different set of thoughts, that are equally difficult to shake once they start bouncing around his skull.

 _You're such a liar._

 _There's so much you still haven't told Aunt Cass._

 _You yelled at her, as if any of this is HER fault._

 _You're making everything worse._

He tries to _not_ freak out, and focus on the work in front of him. He'll apologize, and it'll be alright. He just needs to act less suspicious, and obviously, he has to make sure he doesn't pull a stunt like this again. She's right about the sleep thing, at least. Obviously. But- the problem is, he _can't_ slow down on the research. Taking time to do anything else feels like a waste, and he's tired of feeling like he's not doing his best.

That's… not exactly the only reason, though. The truth is, he doesn't want to sleep. At all.

Honey Lemon coughs.

It startles him, and he half-jolts out of his thoughts to blink a few times and try to bring himself back to the present. He's… in the lab, sitting hunched over half a dozen papers splayed out on the surface in front of him, by one of the computers. It's a- a Friday, he's pretty sure. Classes got out a while ago, and since then, he's been… here. How long has he been here? What time is it?

Well, Honey's still here and working on one of her mid-semester write-ups, so it can't be _that_ late. He leans back in the rolling chair, and it scoots back a few feet while he sighs and rubs at his forehead; honestly, this has been happening more and more lately. Getting so caught up in the task at hand that he can't immediately remember what else is going on around him. But that's… probably fine. It just means he's concentrating and working hard.

He glances behind him, where Honey is sitting on the other side of the lab. There's an open document on the screen in front of her; but she's either taking a break or having one of those college moments where the weight of a million projects feels like it's unbearably heavy, because she has her head flopped down on her arms like she's determined to take a nap in that very spot.

Hiro hesitates. There's still a tangle of worried, frantic plans running through his mind, and it might not be such a bad thing to try a new angle. But… something's keeping him from brightly rolling over and asking right-out. Awkward? Uncertain? There's a word there, for how strange this feels, but he can't find it.

The moment passes. Hiro frowns, and shakes his head, and awkwardly coughs. "Um. Hey."

"Nngf." From behind a mop of blonde hair, Honey eventually turns enough to look at him while also not raising her head off the desk.

"You, uh, you okay?"

" _Nooooo,_ " Honey whispers, sounding somehow deflated. "Nothing's okay. I can't do any more science. I can't do more… words. Writing." She flails one arm toward the screen. "Science-word-writing. No more."

He grins in spite of himself, because Fred's flair for the dramatic has clearly rubbed off on the others. "Well, when's it due? Can't you get it finished over the weekend?"

"Ha ha. Ha. Oh, Hiro. Sweet, innocent Hiro." She heaves a grand sigh, but accidentally gets some hair in her mouth, so it stops halfway and becomes a spitting cough. "No. It was technically due this afternoon. Prof said if I can email it before tomorrow, it won't be a zero."

He blinks. This is, he's pretty sure, the first time in her _life_ she's ever had a late assignment to worry about. "Wow. That… really sucks. I'll leave you-"

 _She has her own life her own problems you're never thinking of anyone but yourself just like back then and it's worse now it's worse you're making it worse she was fine they all were before you dragged them into all this_

"-to it," he says, or at least his voice says it and his mouth moves, but his mind is frozen because _what the hell was that._ The feeling came over him so quickly he couldn't even place it- and it's gone, now, except for a lingering sense of worry and guilt that hurts numbly like a bruise, and for a second he can't do anything but breathe and grab the desk so he doesn't fall.

It was… scary. But he's also really, really angry, because that's the very last thing he needs right now.

"No, it's fine!" Hiro blinks again, and tries to focus again- Honey's sitting up straight now, with most of the lamenting-student persona gone. "Were you going to ask something?"

"Y-yeah." He leans forward so his elbows are resting on his knees, and lets his chin fall into his hands. As quick as he can, he tries to reign in everything he was thinking about before. "I just, uh, had a question about-"

His breath catches before he can say the name. "About T-"

 _Don't deserve to ask_

 _Should be begging for forgiveness_

"-about _Baymax,_ " he finishes, not letting the thoughts distract him any more than they already have. He can worry about that later. Whatever it was.

"Oh!" Her eyes light up, and she leaps out of the chair to cross the rest of the lab- apparently, this trumps regular homework, and Hiro's hit by that bizarre stab of guilt again when he realizes she's putting her own work aside to help him. "Of course! What's up?"

"It's just…" His fingers are flicking together, moving in random patterns. He didn't even realize he was doing it. Finally, he grits his teeth and just says it. "Did my brother… tell you guys about the project? While he was making him?"

He makes the mistake of glancing up to see Honey's reaction. Her entire expression changes; the bright curiosity is gone in an instant, with a somber look making her smile fall away and her shoulders sag. But at the same time, she walks over to one of the other nearby chairs, and gives him a determined glance like she knows the conversation has just shifted into something more serious. "…Yeah. Yeah, he did." She pauses for a second, then sits down and leans a bit closer. "Didn't he ever… tell you?"

Hiro shrugs, finding it suddenly easier to look down at his hands in front of him. "No. I mean, not until that one night," he mumbles, and he figures by her nod that she knows he's talking about the visit when they all finally met him. "I, uh, didn't really care about… the stuff he was doing. Here. Anything for school."

He doesn't mean to, but he lets the guilt and regret flood his words until it sounds more like self-pity. He mentally slaps himself, then blurts out, "Besides, I think he wanted to keep Baymax a secret. Um. Until he was finished."

And he should _not_ have said that, because as soon as the thought sprang up, it made his throat tighten up and his eyes start watering; he's pretty much about to break down. Honey quietly says, "Oh," and briefly clasps his hands with one of hers. When he looks up, she doesn't seem to know exactly what to say, but gives him an encouraging smile anyway.

 _Don't deserve-_

"Thanks," he says, and when she takes her hand away, he reaches up to quickly rub his whole face, not-subtly trying to dry his eyes in the process. "Anyway, the, uh- I was just gonna ask if he said how much time- if you know how long he was working on him. Baymax, I mean."

He's trying too hard, and forcing too much fake cheeriness into his voice like he's discussing something normal and easy to talk about, and Honey has to notice- but thankfully, she just goes with it. "I'm not sure," she begins, brow furrowed in thought. "But he was talking about the idea as early as… it must have been a year and a half ago. End of his freshman year, I think."

His mind blanks. "What? That long?"

"But- it's probably- I mean, the actual work didn't start until later!" she says quickly, with another bright smile. "And, he was doing it all from scratch, with nothing to follow. And it wasn't his only priority, since he had classes and everything else too!"

Hiro looks down, briefly. "So do I," he mumbles. He can see what she's trying to do; she must have _instantly_ picked up on his worry that he won't be able to make Baymax anytime soon, and she's trying to assure him that he doesn't need to compare himself to his brother. And he _gets_ that, in his head. It's just the rest of him that doesn't always cooperate.

Because if Tadashi needed _years,_ then how could he possibly-

"Well, yeah… But it's a lot different, this time!" Even her voice seems like it's specifically designed to sound encouraging. Light, not too loud; as cheerful of words as anyone could say. Hiro has the strange, abstract thought that such a voice is wasted on him. "You already know what you're doing, and you know the end result. No experimentation needed!"

Huh. Experiments.

" _-and this is the eighty-seventh test of-"_

He blinks some more. "…Right."

And he doesn't really know what he was going to say after that. It's quiet in the lab, and both of their computer screens have gone dark; Honey looks like she's about to say something else, but she keeps hesitating and looking away.

Heavy. That's the word he was looking for. The whole place, the whole room- or maybe it's just him and his thoughts. Like something's pushing down on him, on his lungs, not enough to hurt but enough that he doesn't _want_ to talk anymore.

"Hey, Hiro?" When he finally looks back to her, Honey has a determined glint in her eye, like she's resolved something. "Listen- you don't need to worry that it's taking too long."

Oh. Never mind. _Now_ the weight is hitting his lungs, because it's out in the open, now, and she's still looking at him, and all he can think is that _everyone_ loved Baymax so it's not fair that he's the only one who can bring him back and it's not fair that he's the one who _can't_ and it's not fair that they all expect him to find a way- but more than anything else it's not fair that he can't ask the one person who would know how to build him again-

He pushes both hands up against his head. "I know," he says, like focusing on the words will help him push it all away. He tries to believe what Honey just said. "I shouldn't, I- I know."

"Are you sure?" She pauses, then straightens a bit, like she's trying to give him more space. "If you, um- if you felt like that was freaking you out, you… you'd tell us, right?"

What's she doing? What is she _doing?_ Hiro doesn't answer, because half of his brain wants to say _of course_ he's freaking out- it's not like anything has been normal for the last month- but the other half wants to fall to pieces and tell her that he's already wondering if he shouldn't have promised that he'd be able to do it at all, because now they all believe in him and trust him and they're waiting for him to- to NOT let everyone down.

It's a panic, and it feels awful, so he clamps down on both sets of thoughts and shoves them to the side. "Yeah, for sure," he says, and that's a _lie_ and he's used those exact words before, to lie again, to _Tadashi,_ but he shoves it aside with everything else. "That's not it. I'm just- I'm worried, because-"

Pause. He can't lie to her, right? Because she already seems to know exactly what he's thinking. And- why would he lie, anyway? Convince her he's fine? Why?

He can ask her for help, or he can- he can spin everything in a different direction, not lies but not the whole truth, so she doesn't notice-

But why?

"There's just a lot to do," he finally says, and glances back to the blank screen. From this angle, he can see the rest of the lab in the black reflection- empty desks, more computers, cubicles and open spaces that'll play host to a dozen or more students tomorrow, all working on their own projects and homework and theories and experiments. Some of them will fail. Most of them, probably.

Like he's failing right n-

"There's kind of, um, more than I expected," he says again. He leans his elbows on the desk, slightly turned away from her so he doesn't have to look at her. "And I'm just working on how to- work on it, because- I mean- there are different things, at the same time, and I'm trying to-" The sentence derails, and he sighs and starts over. "I have to figure out the logistics of it, and it could take a while."

"Okay. Of course." She nods. "And whenever you need help with anything at all, just- let us know, okay?"

"Yeah." He tries that smile again, the bright and cheery one like Honey always has- it probably looks like a grimace. He changes the subject as quickly as he can. "I actually had a different question."

She tilts her head, clearly waiting for him. He nervously clenches his fists again, because this one has been weighing on him for a while, and it's a specific and dry and semi-awkward part of the whole problem. Yeah, he's good at math, but… talking about money's always weird. Particularly his dead brother's financial situation. It's weird, and painful, and feels oddly disrespectful, for some reason, but it's not like he has a choice. It's all for Baymax, after all.

He grits his teeth. "He got grants from the school, right? For the raw materials?"

His fingers finally loosen so the nails aren't digging into his palms anymore; he's looking down at his hands, so he can't see Honey's reaction. "Yeah," she says after a while. "I mean, he- it took a few tries, but eventually they approved it." There's another pause, like she's remembering something. "He had to make a presentation and everything, to convince the professor to even start the grant process at all."

She's sounding less sure as she talks, and he can hear the subtext loud and clear: _I wasn't thinking about this part. It's gonna be tougher, this time, after everything that happened._

Hiro tries to ignore the worry that thought brings. "So, you know how long it took?"

The pause is longer, this time. When he looks up at last, Honey's brows are furrowed in concentration, but he can also see disappointment crossing her face. "Yeah, but… he was working on the initial research for weeks. Maybe a month, before he even started with the actual building."

"Okay." He's trying to keep up, really, but it's tough to get all the information straight. "So…"

Honey shifts in her seat, glancing down to the floor. "So the school had all that time to go through the paperwork, and get it all approved- the materials, the use of the lab space… everything."

He tries not to let frustration make his voice harsher. "But there's gotta be a way to expedite that, right? If he's done the project once already, won't they be more… okay with it all?"

Honey looks visibly uncomfortable now, and stares down at her hands as she's hunched over in the chair. He's _never_ known her to avoid eye contact. "HL?" he asks quietly.

She swallows. "He… ran it all by the Robotics department," she says, hesitating. "He got the grants approved, but…"

…Oh.

Hiro realizes it just before the silence grows to an uncomfortable amount. "Callaghan?"

She nods, and he growls and buries his face in his hands. Of all the rotten luck. Not only is he not exactly _available_ at the moment, but the school likely won't touch any work associated with Callaghan with a ten-foot-pole.

"We can still see what they'll say," Honey offers halfheartedly. But Hiro slumps back in his chair, because she knows as well as he does: he's not going to get any help from SFIT, on this one. He doesn't even have the capacity to fully process how _screwed_ this whole plan is. Forget his own failure to plan everything out; his brilliant, genius mission is gonna be derailed because of _money._

…Hell.

"…Okay," he says. He's biting the inside of his cheek, and he stops as soon as he realizes. "Okay. Alright."

"Hiro-"

"It's fine." He sits up straighter, ignoring the way his voice sounds like it's about to shatter. "It's- I just have to take it one step at a time. The materials are one thing, and- and finishing the design, and making sure it's accurate-"

"Hiro?"

"And everything from there will just be mechanical stuff," he says, as brightly as he can. "Busy work. It'll be tough, but- but possible."

He almost expects her to call his name a third time, or yell, or snap her fingers in front of his face- but she doesn't interrupt him. She just waits, and when he finally looks at her, she's… worried. Living with Cass and his brother for so long, he knows a worried face when he sees one. "Uh-huh," she says, doubt making her words quiet and shaky. "You know, if… if you're stressed about it, you don't have to pretend it'll be simple."

For some reason, Hiro feels like his throat's getting tighter. He sniffs.

She looks down, briefly, lost in thought. "What can we do to help?" she says after a moment.

They've talked about this, already, but- there's an ache behind Hiro's chest, because even though she knows he'll have to do most of the work, she's still trying to make it a little easier for him. His shoulders sag. "Uh… I think it's still gonna be mostly me," he says, and his voice is weak and quiet. "It has to, I mean. I don't mean to, like- say you guys aren't- I mean, it's not-"

"No, I know." She nods quickly. "I get it. But… still. However we can help, you'll let us know, right?"

"Of course." He rubs at his forehead again, and tries not to think about how incredibly _tired_ he feels.

"So what are you working on first?"

Okay. Okay, that's a- that's a simple question. He can answer that without freaking out. Easy. Besides the research work on restoring corrupted AI, there's… the notes, and- and the notes that Tadashi compiled, so… it's fine. He just has to talk about it a little bit. It's fine.

He swallows. "He, uh- he had a lot of schematics in his notes. Like- diagrams, and stuff. So I'm trying to make sense of those before I start building anything, because- you know, I don't have the materials yet. But I… will soon. I'll figure it out." It's weird, because he's repeating the encouragement she tried to tell him minutes ago, but it feels hollow. "And if I can get working models from those blueprints, then- then I'll double-check everything against the original plans, but-"

She's watching him with a concerned frown. The words keep coming, though, sounding out before he can really process it all. "I remember parts of his design and functionality, but that's not a perfect reference, so- I'll have to build the models while cross-referencing his original notes _and_ his research on AI, because if the access port isn't built to the specifics of the chip, then none of it will work anyway- and I'll have to set up the digital models for the skeleton _and_ the exterior, so it all lines up with the way his body is supposed to move and function and react-"

She tries to say something. She looks even more worried.

"And I was gonna 3-d print the skeleton, so the vinyl would fit around that, but it's not gonna be close enough to the original unless I actually have the right materials underneath, because- because I was already like four days into the work before I remembered carbon fiber works _so differently_ than anything else, but- but I can't just replicate that, because the stupid actuators don't properly channel the power source to the right segments unless you make them _absolutely perfect,_ and they make everything else so complicated because they were the ones that he made, himself, here in the lab- and I can't find his schematics for _those,_ no matter how hard I look-"

He gulps in a breath, but he can't stop, now. He can't look at the lab around him, where Tadashi would have worked. He can't look at her face. "So I'd have to figure out how to accurately reconstruct them, but even if I can, there's no guarantee it'll work together with all the other components- and I don't even _know_ where I can buy bulk quantities of vinyl, because apparently that's the one thing you _can't_ find on the Internet; but even if I did, I don't exactly have the money for that right now, and now _of course_ it turns out that Tadashi got half of the raw materials through a grant from the school, but hey, what do you know, the robotics professor decided to have a mental breakdown and torch a campus building and get my brother killed-" He's never spat it out like that, cynical and sarcastic and angry, and it feels _awful._ Honey flinches back like he just punched her. "So now _that's_ out the window, and- and all the power has to be lithium ion, because nothing else will work with the charging station, and I've never worked with that at all so I don't know if I can keep everything running, because if I screw _that_ up than Baymax won't be able to work for three seconds without his power totally burning out, and- and I can't make hyperspectral cameras from _scratch_ , because that's completely insane, and I think I always just assumed that they wouldn't break, so I wouldn't ever have to worry about new ones; and I don't know how Tadashi got them because I _never asked him about it-"_

His breath catches. The silence in the room is suddenly thick like water. He's breathing, but- but it somehow feels like he can't. Like he's choking. "I never asked him about Baymax," he says, numb, wondering why everything he's saying hurts so much, and his thoughts spiral off into questions that don't matter- he can't be numb and hurting at the same time, that's stupid- and why is he even thinking about himself right now- why is he always, always thinking about himself- "-even when I met you guys, and I saw Baymax, I just- I was only worried about how I'd get into the school. After that, I never asked about him." He closes his eyes, and the words keep coming, but it still hurts. "I made him help me with the microbots, and he- he kept making sure I wouldn't give up, even though he could have kept working on his own projects, and… I didn't even know that he brought Baymax home because I wasn't paying attention- and I didn't-"

His chest is heaving, and his throat burns; dimly, gradually, he realizes that he's crying, but he has no idea when it started. "I didn't ask him because I didn't _care_ , and it wasn't- he wasn't- he's not coming back, so I can't ask him, but I have to bring Baymax back but I can't do it because _I don't know how because I didn't care-"_

A sob cuts off his words, and he truly can't say anything else; it's all stuck in his throat, pushing and breaking and hurting until he can't do anything except shut his eyes tight and bury his head in his hands.

It's not silent, now, because he can hear himself, sniffling and coughing and crying no matter how badly he wants to clamp it all down, keep it muffled and fight it back- push it away- but he can't-

"…Hiro."

Gently, like she's scared she'll hurt him, Honey eventually lets her hand rest on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, and he can almost _hear_ tears in her voice- he seems to have a real knack for hurting his friends, he thinks darkly- before she clears her throat to try to keep her words even. "I didn't… think about it all like that. And I'm sorry, that- that there's so much pressure."

He can't say anything. He's pretty sure if he tries, it'll come out as more crying, and he can't- he can't keep breaking down. He has to be stronger. He has to find a way.

He doesn't have time for crying.

"I, um- I want to say one thing," Honey says with hesitation. "And hear me out, okay?" She seems to be waiting for him, so he shudders and gives a slight nod without looking at her. "Okay. You- I mean, I'm not-" Another pause. It's so, so strange, hearing her tripped up in her words, like she doesn't know exactly what to say.

"…He was so proud of you."

He whips his head up, fast, and doesn't even realize he's doing it until he's staring her in the face- and she flinches, because she probably wasn't expecting that at all, and Hiro's sure he probably still has red cheeks and red eyes and tears streaming down his face, but right now he doesn't care. "He bragged about you. All the time," Honey adds, and there's even a small smile. "He'd talk about how smart you are, and how he's never seen anyone so good with robotics, and how sometimes you'd both throw dumb jokes back and forth until your aunt was laughing so hard she couldn't say anything."

He blinks, and instead of a dozen thoughts cutting at him, there's only one. And it's rising slowly, like a tidal wave.

"In fact- there was one time, he said that you'd be even smarter than him, one day." Honey's still smiling, but she's looking away, like she's lost in thought. "He said… you were going to change the world."

Hiro has the distinct feeling that he doesn't want to hear this.

"So-" Honey furrows her brow, clearly thinking over her words carefully. "…You don't _have_ to feel like you… did something wrong, by him. I mean, I'm sure you got on his nerves once in a while, but that's- that's nothing." She shrugs. "He really, really cared about you, Hiro."

The wave is crashing, breaking in bits and pieces as the single thought filters through: she's trying to help him.

Her hand squeezes his shoulder. "And he would never be disappointed in you."

 _That's not true._

She's trying to help him, but she doesn't realize- saying how proud he was, and how loving and kind and everything else, and how Hiro meant so much to him- and it's kind of funny, because that only makes everything _worse;_ how could Hiro possibly let him down, when he had _so much_ faith in him, how could he ignore him and only ever think about himself and- and he _would_ be disappointed, because he can _see_ it, he can see Tadashi standing in their room and looking down at him and drawing his hand across his face-

" _Unbelievable-"_

" _What would M-"_

Hiro's breathing catches, and for a second, he can't even look at her. It's- it's _funny_ , honestly, ha ha, yeah, just funny, funny that she's trying to help and it should be helping but it's not. His head is spinning, and he feels like the rest of the room is staring at him through glass; but Honey's right there, and he's not alone.

So what the hell is happening?

But he must hide it really well, because she doesn't seem to notice. "And Baymax- well," she begins, then takes her hand away and folds her hands in front of her. "I miss him too. I'm sure we all do. And- and obviously I can't wait to see him again, but-"

He can't translate his thoughts into audible words. It's all spinning, spinning, tearing itself apart, and he can't make it make _sense._

"But- but I don't want that to hurt _you."_

…What?

He looks at her again, thoroughly baffled, but she continues before he can interrupt. "And if you need to step back, or take a break, then- then that's more important, all right? You need to make sure you don't push yourself too hard."

His brain can't comprehend what she's saying. This doesn't make sense.

(And Tadashi once told him he gets this look on his face sometimes- like a robot- 'does not compute', he'd said, in a goofy flat voice and everything- but Tadashi is g-)

She's still just _looking_ at him, with a concerned, take-better-care-of-yourself glare that Aunt Cass would be proud of. "You're doing _so much,_ Hiro. And it's all bearing down on you at once. _No one_ would be able to handle all of it at the same time."

(But _he_ did, so why can't-)

"You're not failing. I promise, you're not failing."

(Why would she say that, why would she _say that-)_

She's smiling a bit, now, trying to give a lighter tone. "And, if Baymax were here- he'd want you to be healthy, you know? That was pretty much his first priority."

And for some reason, his mind takes the words and spins them around until they sound different- _Is this what Baymax would have wanted-_

 _-Baymax is GONE-_

He jerks, and his whole body moves- pulls away- he's standing, suddenly, rearing back until his foot hits one of the wheels of the rolling chair and the whole thing pitches sideways- Honey's eyes go from concerned to confused to shock, and she's reaching out to stop him, but he staggers and keeps his balance, so… now he's just kind of standing there, feeling like an idiot who just randomly spazzed out and jumped backwards and nearly fell over.

The following silence is, of course, awkward. He's getting kind of tired of that.

Hiro opens his mouth to say something, to apologize, or explain, or… whatever. Something. Anything. But he can't.

She still looks confused, and tilts her head. "Uh… Hiro?"

"God," he breathes, out, but he's not sure why. " _God._ " He grabs the edge of the desk, because he feels like he's swaying, or maybe just shaking- and he breathes slowly, because this is _not_ the time to freak out. Any more than he already has, anyway.

"Hiro, are you-"

"I'm _fine,"_ he blurts out, quick and hissing and rasping, and it sounds foreign to him- like it's someone else speaking.

When Honey speaks, her voice is calmer and resolute. "No, you're not. Hiro, you look… exhausted."

Hiro doesn't look at her. His hands clench against the edge of the desk, and he's suddenly looking at the computer again- there's still so much research to do- he hasn't made _nearly_ enough progress, but- but she was talking about how he has to pace himself, and slow down, or else he'll burn out completely. And she's right.

She's right.

She's right.

She's right, so why can't he- why can't he just-

 _Believe_ it-

This time, she doesn't say anything. She just waits, and he's grateful, because if she asked something else he'd probably just snap at her again, so he waits for the buzzing in his head to pass and waits for the shaking to die down and slowly, slowly sits back down in the rolling chair and breathes more evenly and blinks a few more times and, eventually, looks back at her.

"Sorry," he says, and he can't help feeling that he sounds like a little kid. Insincere, and pathetic, and not nearly substantial enough. But Honey just gives another smile, smaller and sadder this time.

There's a faint thought that she should be _angry_ at him, but it fades before he can wonder why.

"It's alright," she says softly, but there's no energy in her words, anymore. She just sounds tired. "I'm… sorry, too."

"For what?" he says. His head is in his hands, now, but he's not crying.

Eventually, she sighs. "Not sure," she admits. "But I obviously said something that set you off, so… I'm sorry if I made anything worse." Another pause. "Mostly, I'm just sorry that this is all hurting so much in the first place."

He doesn't answer; he doesn't know what on earth to say, and he's too tired to think of anything. "But I guess I already said that," she says quietly, and her words sort of run together until she's mumbling, like it doesn't really matter.

…

Earlier, his thoughts were flying in and out of worry and fear so fast he could barely keep track; now, though, he feels like nothing. It all focuses down to one thought:

It could just be… this. For months, and months, until he finally gets Baymax back.

If he succeeds at all.

And he swears Honey can read minds, because she speaks up again. "You know you'll do it, right? You know you're gonna figure it out."

No. No, he doesn't _know_ that. And for a moment, he's mad at her- mad that she thinks she knows, mad that she's telling him what he should believe, mad that she _knows_ him-

Her hand closes over his. "Hey."

Finally, he looks up, and she smiles.

"Don't give up on yourself, okay?"

No.

No, why- why'd she have to say _that_ , exactly- even those stupid words- way too close to-

There are a hundred different feelings burning in him right now, but he can't explain any of them, so he just gives a smile back- it's fake, it's fake, it's a dirty lie and it hurts- and takes another deep breath like everything's okay.

"And talk to us." Lightly, she glances a punch off his shoulder- it strikes him as something Go Go would do. "I mean it, okay? We're still a team."

…Right.

He tries to focus on her, instead of the myriad thoughts he's barely succeeding at ignoring. "Yeah," he says, for the umpteenth time. He wonders if 'yeah' is a super-obvious sign that he's not being totally honest. It probably is. "Yeah."

"You'll get him back. I know it."

And now Hiro's even more worried, because she said it _again_ , like- like she's trying to convince herself. Maybe she's as unsure about all this as he is. Maybe she… doesn't know what to do, either.

"I wish I could just talk to him," he says in a small voice. It doesn't sum up everything he's thinking, but maybe it doesn't have to.

Honey sighs. "…I know. And you _will."_

She's so sure. She's so absolutely sure, and he- he hasn't felt like that in a while. He hides it, though, offering a hint of a smile as he straightens up. He catches her glancing back to her workstation, across the room, and he's quick to say, "You can, uh- you can head back, if you want."

She's still looking at him with concern. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Hiro realizes with a start that his eyes have unfocused, and he's looking at the wall over her shoulder, instead of at her. "I'm- good," he says eventually. "Pretty much covered everything."

"Alright." It's still an awkward silence. And he still feels like his stomach is churning up into his chest. It's a gross image, but weirdly fitting.

She's just about to sit down at the other desk-

"Hey," he blurts out.

"Yeah?" That same smile is shining towards him again. "What is it?"

He's lying. She thinks he's okay, and he's lying.

He hasn't even told her the chip is corrupted.

 _-pretending everything's fine_

 _-jokes and texts, like you're not hiding everything from them, like you're not falling apart-_

Hiro drops his gaze to the floor. "Just- thanks," he mumbles. It probably seems like he's just embarrassed.

The chip is corrupted. He hasn't told her.

The chip is corrupted.

The smile is more relaxed, now. More real, he thinks. "Anytime," she says gently. "I mean it, okay? We all have each other's back."

Hiro's going to say something else, he's- he's going to respond, somehow, but then-

Blank. For a second, he can't think of anything at all. He's only staring at Honey, feeling completely lost, because- he doesn't-

She gives a comically exaggerated two-thumbs-up pose, then grabs her headphones and starts typing soon after. Hiro gives a dumb nod, even though she's already not looking at him.

…The feeling's still there.

Slowly, Hiro turns to his notes and the computer in front of him. The monitor is making a faint buzzing noise, and when he takes in a breath, it sounds far too loud in the quiet room.

He just… told her way more than he meant to. But he's still half-lying. And she's trying to help him, trying to be a friend, while he- honestly, he was thinking about himself the whole time. All the problems, piling up, pushing him down and making it so he can't think about anything else. Only himself.

Like he always does.

Hiro's still looking down at his hands. There's a moment, fleeting but strong, where he thinks- and realizes- and there's something cold and lonely rising up in his thoughts, and he doesn't know how to stop it. A specific feeling- like he's an impostor. Something unreal.

Hiro stares at the screen in front of him, which has gone dark since he left it alone for so long. All he can see is his face, reflected in an empty black square. He blinks.

Feels like pretending. Feels like something he doesn't deserve. He pictures Tadashi here in the lab, introducing his little brother to all his friends, and joking with them- laughing- talking-

A sick pit of unease sinks heavily in his chest. No, he realizes, not heavy- _angry_ , and buzzing and sharp and about to collapse.

(Because he doesn't know Fred, and he doesn't know her either- he honestly can't remember if she has siblings, or what she's hoping to do with her future, or what her hobbies are, besides _chemistry_ , of course, since that's all he _needed_ to know, wasn't it, that she's an awfully good shot with the chem-grenades-)

…

But maybe it's fine. Maybe he's overreacting. He broke down, yeah- but Honey was there, and he smiled and wiped his tears dry, and now it's time to move on. He just has to quit worrying so much. He has to focus on getting Baymax back. It's fine.

He breathes deep, with a shudder.

It's fine.

Berating himself, Hiro scowls at his reflection before the screen lights up again. There's work to do.

He takes notes. He pores over articles, and examines his own research against other sources. He brings up older scans of Baymax, along with some of the blueprints he was considering earlier. Honey lets him chip away at the project in peace; he doesn't actually notice when she leaves.

He keeps working. It's probably pretty late by now, but he… he doesn't have to worry. He still has… time… before Cass, will… get… worried…

…

Hiro startles awake, lost for a moment as to where he is- and the evening only becomes more of a jumbled mess from there.

Closing up the lab is normally a hassle, more so when he's still half-groggy from exhaustion. Way, _way_ later than he meant to, he catches the tram and nearly dozes off again- he's pretty sure the only thing that keeps him from missing his stop is the sheer terror of thinking he might, in fact, miss his stop. Awkwardly shuffling through the back door, reasonably sure the only reason Aunt Cass isn't giving him a lecture is because the café's busy with a late-night rush of other college students, and she doesn't have a minute to spare- throwing all his school stuff in the attic, standing in the middle of the room, realizing he doesn't have a single idea what to do with the rest of the night- grabbing some leftovers from the fridge, heading back upstairs, eating in front of a Youtube video he doesn't even really care about-

…

He's just so, so freaking tired. He'll talk to Aunt Cass tomorrow. And- dimly, he notices that there are a few texts from the gang, minus HL, on his phone- he'll get to those later, too. Nothing major: just a _hey are you doing alright_ here and a _you seemed super out of it, man, just wanted to see if things are good_ there. He doesn't have the energy to deal with it right now.

…

God, this was such a wash.

…

He has to sleep. Duh. But- but the problem is-

…

Eventually, he gives up. Brushes his teeth. Throws on shorts and a ratty T-shirt. Tries his best to not worry too much, and climbs into bed.

…

The dreams have been getting worse.

The cliché of it is pretty embarrassing. He absolutely _refuses_ to wake up by bolting upright in a cold sweat, like the movies, and he is _not_ going to stare out rainy windows while wondering 'what it all _means,_ man.' (How would you even wake up like that? He's pretty sure it's not a real thing. Wouldn't you just fall over?)

But all the same, they're there, and they aren't stopping. Sometimes it's just memories, but twisted and warped. Flying with Baymax, except the blimps in the skyline are drifting through the pinks and purples of hyperspace, instead, and he can never stop the giant piece of debris from slamming into them both. Bot fights in the alleys, but the fighters are made out of his microbots, and there's always an awful moment where they start to go crazy and swarm towards his friends, attacking them, and everyone turns and stares at the transmitter firmly on Hiro's head.

Tadashi, sometimes. Those dreams are the worst. Especially if nothing terrible happens, and nothing goes wrong. Talking about school. Working on the project for the showcase. Arguing over who's taking out the garbage. Escaping back alleys on a motorcycle.

Those dreams wouldn't be so bad, if he didn't have to wake up.

But the one, single image that keeps coming back- when he's drifting off, or just before he wakes up, or any time in between- is the mask. Back when they were still thinking of Callaghan as 'Yokai'. He can picture it clear as day, in his mind: the yellow eyes, the blank white sheen over the face, and the jagged red gashes.

It's always there. And, lately, something else- Yokai's black-gloved hand, pointing out of the darkness. Pointing right at him.

It's just a stupid dream. Nothing to worry about. There's no reason to feel his heart pounding when he wakes up, still feeling like Yokai- not Callaghan, but _Yokai_ , like a mythical figure that's left reality completely and drifts around like a ghost- is staring him down, almost… accusing?

It doesn't make sense. It's silly to worry about it. Why would he dream about the mask, when he already knows who's behind it? It could be that his brain's playing some kind of bad joke, and maybe in the future he'll have a dream where the mask falls off, and it's actually Fred or some garbage, like a cheesy horror movie dream sequence. The thought's a little funny, at least.

Or, it was. The first time. It's less funny now, when he has the exact same dream, and that hand is still pointed straight at him.

…

Ha.

…

He wakes up normally, blinking up at the dark attic.

…

He's alone.

…

…

…

…

…

…

 **[]**

" **Don't None of Y'all Test Me, I Mean It, I Set Up This Chat so I Make the Rules and If You Don't Like It, Tough, In Here I Am God™"**

 **[]**

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : fred are you okay

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : you seem more, I dunno

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : megalomaniacal than usual

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : everybody shut up, I have news

 **Whassup_Bae** : Can we talk about how excellent that word usage was?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : nO

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : ikr

 **Whassup_Bae** : Ten out of ten, would read again.

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : Fred are you actually okay though?

 **Whassup_Bae** : I don't think I've heard anyone use 'megalomaniacal'… ever, actually.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : yeah yeah, A+, model student, you officially aced all of your tests forever BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : score

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : school doesn't work that way, but I'll take it

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : this bitch is going up on the fridge

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : framed

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : mommy are you proud of me

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : enough of your heinous cursing, for we have urgent matters to discuss

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : Fred, I don't think-

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : oh

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : darn it, it's so tough to tell when you guys are seriously angry and when you're just messing with each other! I keep thinking I have to prevent a fight or something!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : hl seriously

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : you are too pure for this world

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : I'm afraid this chat is going to corrupt you or something

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : See, right there! I don't even know what you mean by that!

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : oh, wait.

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : you're just being sarcastic… right? It's just part of the joke, so you DON'T really mean it.

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : I think I'm getting it!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : what no that was legit

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : I was just

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : this time, it was

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : um

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : yeah, I can see how this would get confusing

 **Whassup_Bae** : HL, I wouldn't worry too much about it. Nothing said in this chat ends up mattering, at all. Pretty much across the board.

 **Whassup_Bae** : I think we unofficially declared it a zone of nothing but jokes. And a zone where the jokes are always really stupid. Ergo, the entire chat is just a bunch of stupid jokes; I don't think we'll even remember this in two days, much less be offended.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : thanks for looking out for us, though, youre the best and we love you

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : aww thanks!

 **Whassup_Bae** : It's kinda like how you can technically write awful, obscene things with an Etch-A-Sketch. Vile, even. But at the end of the day… yeah.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : incorrect, sir

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : instant messaging is forever, and I haVE RECEIPTS

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : OF THE MANY WAYS I'VE BEEN WRONGED

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : okay, see, this one I'm not sure about

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : but I'm gonna say… joking?

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : ding ding what did our contestant win today, bob

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : looks like

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : a new caaaaaaar

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : viciously mocking an innocent friendo is not a joke

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : it is very serious business

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : :(

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : did I just see a godforsaken hand-typed one-character-at-a-time emoticon

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : did we just timewarp to 2009 or something

 **Whassup_Bae** : Oh, no. No. Absolutely not.

 **Whassup_Bae** : This is where I'm drawing the line.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Fred, you don't know what kind of hell you're toying with here. I've seen conversations become completely unreadable.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : oh really ;P

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : uh-oh

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : I think it's kind of funny!

 **Whassup_Bae** : Do you want me to give you the anarchy speech again?

 **Whassup_Bae** : I will.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : oh no

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : or should I say

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : :o

 **Whassup_Bae** : That's it.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Society has rules. This fundamental aspect of human nature is intrinsically linked to our understanding of what 'government' is truly meant to accomplish; therefore, to further explore and understand the concept of 'society', this primary assertion must have a continuation that critically examines forms of both local and national government, as well as take a strong stance regarding the risks and benefits of each. To begin, prudence dictates that the scholar first ask why humanity needs any governance, in the first place. In other words, what is the purpose of any singular 'law', in the human consciousness? In society itself?

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : fred what have you done

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : IM SORRY I DIDN'T' MEAN IT

 **Whassup_Bae** : I have twenty pages. Single-spaced.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Kill the faces, Fred.

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : are we still joking?

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : kinda?

 **Whassup_Bae** : No.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : welp I gave it my best shot

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : sorry for giving you the wrong intel Ramirez

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : but for real guys stop getting me off track I have URGENT BUSINESS

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : so listen up!

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : this is more confusing than class! I wish I could get the hang of reading sarcasm in texts like you guys

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : no, you don't

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : you think you do, but

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : treasure your innocence, child

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : it is a wondrous thing, and easily lost

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : NO ONE IS PAYING ATTENTION

 **Whassup_Bae** : I agree. Don't sell your soul for memes.

 **Whassup_Bae** : It's too late for us. You, though- there is hope for you.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Forget this place. Live a live of hope and joy.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Flee.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : whoa I got chills

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : ugh! why are we always so dramatic?

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : oh my god

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : if I had to sum up my life in a single sentence

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : HL that was beautiful

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae has renamed the chat 'Why Are We Always So Dramatic'!**

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : evyerregbody hut up shtis h si sieoruis

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : good lord

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : fred did you just have a stroke

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : or maybe

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : I am the one who stroked

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : is this where I die

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I WAS TYPING GAFAST OKAY

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : AND THEN I DROPPED MY PHONE

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I REPEAT, EVERYBODY SHUT UP THIS IS SERIOUS

 **[]**

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin has reset the chat name to default 'Group Chat'!**

 **[]**

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : wait

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : blargh! That's not what I mean to do!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : A for effort, though

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : I like your moxie, kid

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : why does nobody listen to me :'(

 **Whassup_Bae** : …Frederick, I swear to God.

 **[]**

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin has renamed the chat 'evyerregbody hut up shtis h si sieoruis'!**

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : why

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : why is life suffering

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : was that right? Did it change?

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : haha you're a natural

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : nobody change the name this one's perfect

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : Yay!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : seriously you're like a ball of sunshine

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : go go you're so sweet! :3

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : :)

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : beep beep yellow flags flyin all up in here because I call FOUL

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : that was flagrant REF GET EM OUTTA HERE

 **Whassup_Bae** : Overruled.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : he was going for a football joke but you hijacked it with a courtroom metaphor

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : in other words

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : wasabi come on! How come THEY can get away with that?!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : interception lol

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** : Oh, I know this one! Because of an arbitrary and unhealthy cultural construct that sees masculinity as a fragile, easily-corrupted façade that has to be maintained at all times! Therefore, it's more socially acceptable for women to compliment each other than men, for nearly any reason and in nearly any situation- because we've subconsciously taught men that showing emotion, affection, and friendship brings an inherent risk of being seen as 'unmanly'!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : whoa

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** :I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE EMOTICONS, YOU INNOCENT AND KNOWLEDGEABLE UNICORN OF GOODNESS

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I CAN'T EVEN BE MAD AT YOU BECAUSE THAT WAS A VERY WELL-STRUCTURED POINT THAT YOU TYPED IN LIKE FIFTEEN SECONDS, AND I'M REALLY IMPRESSED

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** :DAMMIT

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** :…thank you?

 **[]**

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **has changed Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin's name to 'Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness'!**

 **[]**

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** : yr welcome

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** : haha I'm flattered! Thanks gog

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption has changed Go_Go_Power_Rangers's name to 'gog'!**

 **[]**

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** : *thansk Gogo

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** : um

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** : so, small problem.

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** : I can't seem to actually seemy texts anymore?/? the name keeps moving trippng up the screne

 **Whassup_Bae** : To be honest, on mine, the whole conversation's gone. That name takes up all the space.

 **Whassup_Bae** : I can't even see what I'm typing right now.

 **gog** : yeah you're right this is kind of a nightmare

 **gog** : wait

 **gog** : fred wtf

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : lol hi gog

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** : GUYS WHAT DO IDO

 **gog:** I got this

 **[]**

 **gog has changed Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness's name to 'Honey_badger_dgaf'!**

 **[]**

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : whew! I can see now!

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : I don't think I get the reference but that's okay!

 **[]**

 **gog has changed gog's name to 'Sold_my_soul_for_memes'!**

 **[]**

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : much better

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : boo

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : Wasabi, im really impressed you can still have perfect spelling and grammar without seeing your texts!

 **Whassup_Bae** : I do what I can.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : oh come on, 'gog' was hilarious

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** :go go that new one's not even a pun what the heck

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : it's like you're not even trying

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : :P

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : OH COME ON

 **Whassup_Bae** : Actually, I kind of forgot we could change our names.

 **Whassup_Bae** : I should try to come up with something.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : no shut up

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : my OG nicknames were the best and it's all been downhill from there

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : do you know how long it took to come up with pun jokes based on each of your individual names

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : nicknames you gave us in the first place, you goof

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : tell me right now that 'go go power rangers' isn't literally the first joke you thought of

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : tell me it took you more than ten seconds to come up with

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I came out to have a good time and honestly

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : um

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I don't remember how it ends but

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : basically

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : f u

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : guys stop fighting! I still can't tell if you're joking or not

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : but this is getting really annoying! Fred, what did you actually want to tell us?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : Oh right

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : it was that

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : …

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : damn HL layin down the law

 **Whassup_Bae** : Right? That was a swift and effective end to the nonsense that is our conversations. Kind of embarrassing, honestly.

 **Whassup_Bae** : I feel like a babysitter who was supposed to make sure the kids behaved themselves, and the parents just got home and found pizza all over the walls.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : perfect analogy, imo

 **Whassup_Bae** : I try.

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : Fred? Are you still there?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : …

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : omg

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : fred, did you actually forget what you were going to say

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : that's hilarious

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : no shut up

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : WAIT I GOT IT

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption has renamed the chat 'Spy Mission'!**

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae** : You have to admit, it's a little funny that you forgot the thing you tried to bring up, like, six times.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : we're MOVING ON, NEW CONVERSATION

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : IF THE NEW CHAT NAME DIDN'T MAKE THAT CLEAR ENOUGH YOU PLEBIANS

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : fred what the hell do you want

 **Whassup_Bae** : Good Lord, have we actually been texting for over an hour? And we haven't actually gotten to Fred's original point yet?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : im gonna take HLs silence as a sign that she's deeply disappointed in us

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : AS

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : YOU

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : MAY

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : HAVE

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : NOTICED

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : our resident Hamada is getting a little big for his tiny science britches

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : by this of course I mean

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : he adamantly refuses to tell me his middle name

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : what

 **Whassup_Bae** : Are you serious?

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** :that's why you started the chat?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : I repeat

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : WHAT

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I made a joke about his middle name, then I realized I don't actually know it

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : then I asked him and he wouldn't tell me

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : naturally I need to find out at all costs

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** :but… why?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : because he doesn't want to tell me? obviously?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : guys I think fred's some kind of secret comedy genius

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : this is the most gloriously anticlimactic thing ive ever heard

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : he was trying to get to this point for HOURS

 **Whassup_Bae** : Fred, you realize what's especially funny about your question, right?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : No!? I don't?! and I would greatly appreciate some friendly understanding on the matter!

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : Do YOU guys know it?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : in a manner of speaking yeah

 **Whassup_Bae** : Don't tell him.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : WHY

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : oh, I just got it! Ha ha! I had to think about it for a sec!

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : AAAAAAGH

 **[]**

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption has renamed the chat 'Spy Mission AND IF YOU DON'T BHELP ME, I'M NEVE RTALKING TO ANY OF YOU AGIAN'!**

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae** : By any chance, did you disable autocorrect? I'd be fascinated to know if this is because you stopped using it, or because it's not working properly. Either is possible. It sometimes causes more misspellings than it solves.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : lol

 **Hiro_Hamada** : lol

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : seriously what is it with you and these longass names

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : actually scratch that, more important question

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : do you really want us to help you snoop and figure out hiro's middle name

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : yes precisely

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : you're acting like that's SUCH a weird thing, but I see it as just friends helping each other out

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : and maybe solving a mystery also

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : as friends do

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : except APPARENTLY, you guys already KNOW said middle name, and you're just REFUSING TO TELL ME, so basically both my spy mission to find out Hiro's middle name AND my hopes of going on a grand adventure with a squad of buddies have been dashed

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : DASHED I SAY

 **Whassup_Bae** : Well, we don't… 'know' the name, exactly.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : WHAT

 **Whassup_Bae** : I mean…

 **Hiro_Hamada** : lol don't tell him

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : wait

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : uh oh

 **Whassup_Bae** : …What on earth?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : omg

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : hi, Hiro!

 **Hiro_Hamada** : sup yall

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : so

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : I can explain

 **Whassup_Bae** : I'm kind of lost right now.

 **Hiro_Hamada** : lemme break it down

 **Hiro_Hamada** : you remember how fred was talking about being king of the chat and everything, since he started it

 **Hiro_Hamada** : and he has all this power and stuff

 **Hiro_Hamada** : so basically

 **Hiro_Hamada** :he forgot to block me from this one

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap

 **Whassup_Bae** : That's actually amazing.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : god in heaven I think I just choked

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : I can't stop laughing

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : why didn't you say anything?

 **Hiro_Hamada** : shrug

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : don't you type the word 'shrug' at me instead of an actual answer!

 **Hiro_Hamada** : lol

 **Hiro_Hamada** : but yeah ive technically been here the whole time

 **Hiro_Hamada** :and now I am the one who is betrayed, fred

 **Hiro_Hamada** : how the tables have turned

 **Hiro_Hamada** : or should I say

 **Hiro_Hamada** : turncoat

 **Hiro_Hamada** : turncoat tables

 **Hiro_Hamada** : just picture tables with coats on them, and they're turning? I dunno theres a pun in there somewhere

 **Hiro_Hamada** : the point is, how could you

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : noooooooo hiro I didn't mean it

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : Hiro come back

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : you can blame it all on me

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : my spiky math wizard

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : my megabrain gadget leprechaun

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : fred seriously what is wrong with you

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : plucky imp genius

 **Hiro_Hamada** : stop that

 **Hiro_Hamada** :I can't even tell if these are ironic nicknames or like

 **Hiro_Hamada** :genuine insults

 **Whassup_Bae** : Yeah, I'm kind of stumped here.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : why do I hang out with you people

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : what

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : go, just look at your username right now and then think about that question again

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : …

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : damn it

 **Hiro_Hamada** : wait fred does that mean I can call YOU names that make no sense

 **Hiro_Hamada** : but they aren't insults exactly

 **Hiro_Hamada** : like

 **Hiro_Hamada** : celery stalk

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : hold up

 **Hiro_Hamada** : snappy caffeine lemur

 **Whassup_Bae** : Whoa.

 **Hiro_Hamada** : skinny hazy bundle o'sticks

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : I had to set down my phone for a minute, and now I have no idea what's happening!

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : ive been here the whole time but honestly same

 **Hiro_Hamada** : lovable stoner gumbi

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** : okay tIME OUT

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae has changed Fred_dead_Fredemption's name to 'Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi'!**

 **[]**

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** : THAT IS AN UNFOUNDED ACCUSATION

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : damn hiro not bad

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** : I only LOOK like I do lots of drugs

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** : it's a very specific image that I feel fits my personality and I like dressing this way

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** : just to clarify

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** : I don't want you guys thinking I'm high like all the time

 **Hiro_Hamada** : yeah and I'm not a mythical creature, what's your point

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : lol

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : wait, hiro, were you reading along this whole time? Before, I mean?

 **Hiro_Hamada** : yeah p much

 **Hiro_Hamada** : for the record I also think HL is a pure angel, and I totally nominate her for the hero role

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : ?

 **Hiro_Hamada** : you know, in the screenplay

 **Hiro_Hamada** : where fred is taking over the world come on hl we've been over this

 **Whassup_Bae** : actually, I don't think she was here.

 **Hiro_Hamada** : oh okay I'll explain

 **Hiro_Hamada** : so basically

 **Hiro_Hamada** : it's a screenplay where fred takes over the world

 **Hiro_Hamada** : huh I guess that's pretty much it

 **Whassup_Bae** : Yeah, we haven't gotten past the idea stage.

 **Whassup_Bae** : The Hollywood dream is just that, unfortunately.

 **Whassup_Bae** : One day, though.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : #oneday

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** : wait i can't use smileys but go can use hashtags?!

 **Hiro_Hamada** : yup exactly

 **Whassup_Bae** : I think you just outlined a new rule, in fact. Couldn't have put it better myself.

 **[]**

 **Hiro_Hamada has renamed the chat 'Fred can't use smileys but Go can use hashtags'!**

 **[]**

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** : this sucks

 **Hiro_Hamada** : lol

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : oh wait hiro I just noticed

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : whyd you change your name back

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : small tree boat was kinda growing on me

 **Hiro_Hamada** : I dunno it just felt like it was time

 **Hiro_Hamada** : I guess you could say

 **Hiro_Hamada** : that ship has sailed

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : eyyyyyyyy

 **Hiro_Hamada** : eyyyyyyyy

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** : holy shit all is forgiven

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** : my boy is following in my footsteps

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** : hiro im so proud

 **Hiro_Hamada** : footsteps my FOOT

 **[]**

 **Hiro_Hamada has changed Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi's name to 'Bad_at_Puns'!**

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae** : Go, if I may, to take a leaf out of your book-

 **Whassup_Bae** : 'Savage'.

 **Bad_at_Puns** : hiro you're killing me

 **Bad_at_Puns** :this is emotional whiplash

 **Bad_at_Puns** : I can only take so much sudden but inevitable betrayal in one day

 **Bad_at_Puns** : need I remind you I am the only one who actually worked to put puns in the nicknames

 **Bad_at_Puns** : and you SCOFFED sir

 **Bad_at_Puns** : even replacing my carefully crafted name with a dumb one that's stupid and dumb

 **[]**

 **Hiro_Hamada has changed Hiro_Hamada's name to 'Small_Tree-Boat'**

 **[]**

 **Bad_at_Puns** : YOU JUST SAID YOU WERE DONE WITH THAT NAME

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : No I love it its mine back off

 **Bad_at_Puns** : Why do you all hate me

 **Bad_at_Puns** : where is the moment we needed the most

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : what

 **Bad_at_Puns** : you kick up the leaves and the magic is lost

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : don't you dare

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : god even seeing the lyrics has it stuck in my head already

 **Bad_at_Puns** : THEY TELL ME YOUR BLUE SKIES FADE TO GRAY

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : im suddenly regretting a lot of life choices

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : why are any of us here?

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **HL** : what is this, really?

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : Oh guys this aint good

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : if HL is disillusioned then we're done for

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : she was the best of us

 **Whassup_Bae** : Honey Lemon, I have some bad news for you.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Your friends are idiots.

 **Whassup_Bae** : And I include myself in that statement.

 **Bad_at_Puns** : YOU DIDN'T REALIZE BUT YOU JUST CALLED YOURSELF AN IDIOT, HAHA

 **Bad_at_Puns** : oh

 **Bad_at_Puns** : goddamnity

 **Bad_at_Puns** : *goddamnht

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : GODDAMNITY

 **Small_Tree-Boat** : EVERYBODY SHUT UP, I JUST LEARNED THE GREATEST CURSE WORD EVER

 **[]**

 **Small_Tree-Boat has changed Small_Tree-Boat's name to 'God_damnity'!**

 **[]**

 **God_damnity** : you guys I'm so happy right now you don't even know

 **God_damnity** : this is perfect

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : I agree that's a really funny name, but I think we should lighten up on Fred! this seems kind of mean.

 **Bad_at_Puns** : AT

 **Bad_at_Puns** : LAST

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : im probably repeating myself but seriously hl

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : you are just

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : the best person

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : that's besides the point!

 **God_damnity** : she doesn't deny it tho

 **Whassup_Bae** : I think you're right, to be perfectly honest. It's possible we took this too far.

 **Whassup_Bae** : Fred, I'm sorry we kept making fun of you, so continuously.

 **God_damnity** : lol im not

 **God_damnity** : guy's creeping on my name and blocking me from conversations that's some sketchy stuff

 **God_damnity** : well he didn't actually block me but he was planning to and then forgot

 **Whassup_Bae** : Fine, you're exempt.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : …

 **Whassup_Bae** : Go?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : fine, sorry fred

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : happy?

 **Bad_at_Puns** : yes! actually! thank you for asking!

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : I was talking to wasabi

 **Bad_at_Puns** : UGH

 **Bad_at_Puns** : YEAH WELL, SO WAS I

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : what?

 **God_damnity** : sure you were

 **Whassup_Bae** : The point is, no more making fun of Fred by changing the names and such.

 **Bad_at_Puns** : YES AGREED

 **Bad_at_Puns** : I mean

 **Bad_at_Puns** : thank you that's very mature of you

 **Bad_at_Puns** : same for honey

 **Bad_at_Puns** : hiro and go go noT SO MUCH

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : hey wtf I apologized

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : right now im totally morally superior to Hamada at least

 **God_damnity** : eh, that's fair

 **God_damnity** : in fact whoa that makes me the delinquent of the group hell yeah

 **God_damnity** : who wants to like

 **God_damnity** : graffiti some mailboxes

 **Whassup_Bae** : …Is that what you think teenage hoodlums do?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : are you kidding that was like every weekend when I was his age

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : hmm what sort of mischief can I get up to

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : I know lets tag mailboxes yeah perfect

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : everyone will be so

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : slightly confused when they go to get their mail

 **God_damnity** : guys I know it was a JOKE

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : hiro, I know you don't like hearing this, but youre kind of adorable.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : please talk more about how badass and rebellious you are, its really cute

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : like a small puppy trying to look intimidating

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : or a gerbil

 **God_damnity** : what no ewgh

 **God_damnity** : I said it was a joke good lord

 **God_damnity** : how did this backfire so quickly

 **Bad_at_Puns** : haha yes finally someone else is the target of the snide japery

 **Bad_at_Puns** : the witty and verbose slinged insults

 **Bad_at_Puns** : I was getting kinda sick of the Lets Roast Fred Variety Hour

 **Whassup_Bae** : …

 **Whassup_Bae** : Ah, I can't do it. I'm not THAT heartless.

 **God_damnity** : pfft chicken

 **[]**

 **God_damnity has renamed the chat 'Let's Roast Fred Variety Hour'!**

 **[]**

 **God_damnity** : lol

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : lol

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : I still don't get why this is so funny? he just changed the name!

 **Bad_at_Puns** : oh my sweet sweet lord in heaven above

 **Bad_at_Puns** : it's like trying to keep wolves away from a campfire with a stick

 **Bad_at_Puns** : even if you get them to step back, if you drop your guard for ONE SECOND

 **Bad_at_Puns** : you people make me sick

 **Whassup_Bae** : Alright, guys. For real, enough is enough.

 **Bad_at_Puns** : haha now there are TWO sticks

 **Bad_at_Puns** : *ppl holding sticks

 **Bad_at_Puns** : and we can stand back to back while the camera pans around all cool like

 **Bad_at_Puns** : you can't get us now you stupid wolves

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae** **has renamed the chat 'Let's Roast Fred Variety Hour Part 2: The Revenge'!**

 **[]**

 **God_damnity** : oh my god why didn't I think of that

 **Bad_at_Puns** : GARETH TOBIAS WHITAKER

 **Bad_at_Puns** : I TRUSTED YOU

 **God_damnity** : i would've gone with Roastin' 2: Electric Boogaloo but this is pretty good I'll admit

 **Whassup_Bae** : I mean, you spelled 'Whitaker' right, so one out of three ain't bad, I suppose.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : whered you get 'tobias'?

 **Whassup_Bae** : And, for that matter, 'Gareth'.

 **Bad_at_Puns** : no im not talking to any of you

 **Bad_at_Puns** : im flipping off my phone screen right now fyi

 **Bad_at_Puns** : just kinda imagine it, I guess

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : see, im pretty sure you mean you're holding up the finger towards your phone? but my first thought with that phrasing, was that you're doing a backflip off of your screen or something!

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : there's an image

 **Whassup_Bae** : Through the power of pure rage, Fred found a way not only to balance on top of his cell phone, but also to perform acrobatic feats he'd never dreamed. Truly inspiring.

 **God_damnity** : lol

 **God_damnity** : oh hey you know what would be fun

 **God_damnity** : we should try to figure out FRED's middle name

 **God_damnity** : you guys wanna help me out on a sleuthing mission

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : sure

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : Yeah!

 **Whassup_Bae** : Absolutely.

 **Bad_at_Puns** : SOM OF A BITHFCH

 **Whassup_Bae** : There it is.

 **Whassup_Bae** : I knew if I waited long enough, it would come to me.

 **Whassup_Bae** : The white whale, if you will.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : huh?

 **[]**

 **Whassup_Bae has changed Whassup_Bae's name to 'Som_of_a_Bithfch'!**

 **[]**

 **Som_of_a_Bithfch** : Magnificent.

 **God_damnity** : see, THAT was inspiring

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : def feeling the inspiration rn

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : if its any consolation fred, I still don't get why they think these names are funny!

 **Bad_at_Puns** : ***CAUSE YOU HAD A BAD DAY***

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : oh no

 **God_damnity** : I thought he forgot about that!

 **Bad_at_Puns** : ***YOU'RE TAKING ONE DOWN***

 **Som_of_a_Bithfch** : I think that's it for me. It's been fun.

 **Som_of_a_Bithfch** : Good night, everybody.

 **[]**

 **Som_of_a_Bithfch has left the chat!**

 **[]**

 **God_damnity** : quitter

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : yeah pretty disappointing

* * *

 **Bad_at_Puns** : YOU SING A SAD SONG JUST TO TURN IT AROUND

* * *

 **God_damnity** : oh my god

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : how did you even do that?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** : changed my mind bye

 **[]**

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes has left the chat!**

 **[]**

 **God_damnity** : and then there were three

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : actually, I should probably head to bed soon! It's pretty late already

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : but it was fun talking with you guys! Id rather see you all in real life, but still!

 **God_damnity** : wait no don't leave

 **God_damnity** : everyone's deserting so quickly

 **God_damnity** : im picturing my texts echoing now

 **God_damnity** : even though it's not a physical space weird how that works

 **God_damnity** : can text messages get lonely

 **God_damnity** : aw man now im just making myself sad

 **Bad_at_Puns** : alright, Hamada, give me your best shot

 **Bad_at_Puns** : one last jab before this complete train wreck of a conversation is over

 **Bad_at_Puns** : bring it on im ready for anything

 **Bad_at_Puns** : NOTHING YOU SAY CAN SHOCK ME NOW

 **God_damnity** : alright

 **God_damnity** : how bout

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : oh I almost forgot! Fred, im sorry everyone was ganging up on you so much, and even though I'm still not sure how the whole 'just joking' thing works, you're a really fun person to be around and its super cool how you make everyone laugh and try to make people happy! I think that's really special and we shouldn't take advantage of it and I hope nobody went too far!

 **God_damnity** : …

 **Bad_at_Puns** : that

 **Bad_at_Puns** : that's probably

 **Bad_at_Puns** : the nicest thing I've ever heard

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** : oh, sorry, hiro, I interrupted you! You were about to say something?

 **God_damnity** : nope

 **God_damnity** : sure wasn't

 **God_damnity** : um

 **God_damnity** : night guys

 **[]**

 **God_damnity has left the chat!**

 **[]**

A faint _beep_ , and a screen that vanishes- and he's back in the real world, blinking at his phone's menu. And… feeling very out of place, for some reason.

The words 'real' and 'fake' don't cut it, really, because he's not thinking that way, exactly- but still, it somehow feels like… as soon as he stops talking with them, something changes. He can stop. He doesn't have to keep- he can just stop.

So, the next logical question- why does he suddenly feel so alone?

He ignores that particular wondering, setting his phone down on the counter in front of the garage's computer. He was here last time they did the chat nonsense, too, wasn't he? Huh. Idly, he thinks that he's been spending an awful lot of time in here.

…

It's worth it, though.

…

 _God._ He jerks into alertness, suddenly realizing that he momentarily dozed off- he hadn't even noticed his eyes closing. Scowling, he rolls the chair forward and starts in on his work again.

He should have been doing this the whole time, honestly.

...

…

…

…

…

…

 _-Hell, I probably shouldn't be talking to you at all. -_

…

…

…

…

…

…

October sees a few unseasonably warm days before the month is out.

Cass squirms under her jacket, but doesn't remove it. She could have left it in the car, she supposes, but no point wondering about that now. She's likely letting her mind wander- strange, since she expected to have a harder time thinking about anything _except_ the reason she's here.

Like the way Hiro stammered out a half-excuse before rushing out the door to class this morning, or the way that it was better, at least, than how he simply glared in her direction the day before. How she- doesn't know how to talk to him, it feels like.

…

It was colder last time.

She stares at the name, and the random, unimportant thoughts continue. Cemeteries _should_ be cold, she feels. Right? Last time, it seemed… appropriate, with the rain and the chill in the air. And she's only ever been to two other burials- or just one, really, since they lowered the two caskets at the same time.

But it was cold, then, too. And dark, with thick clouds hanging low like the sky itself was about to come crashing down.

Now, it's… this. No wind. No clouds. Just a warm, friendly blue sky, with the sun beating down like nothing is wrong in the entire world. There are flowers at the base of the gravestone- not just from her, and more than she remembers from the funeral. Maybe people who knew him from school have stopped by, too. They're completely still, bright colors against the dull gray of the stone, and there's a lily with a drooping petal that half-hides the name _Hamada._ It barely brushes against _brother,_ and the tip of another petal nearly reaches down to _nephew._

It's quiet, and peaceful. Tranquil, even.

It makes her feel sick.

She fidgets, looking at her phone once in a while to check the time- though she has nowhere to be, she knows. She has the morning off, and Bethany's one of the more reliable managers, so she can handle running the café for a few hours. Plus, with Ethel picking up more hours, the place isn't about to fall apart at the seams anymore.

She told them she had to take care of some paperwork, for the school. Hiro's late admission, and all that. For some reason, she didn't want to tell them the truth.

…It's the first time she's come back.

She doesn't know if this is considered too soon. Or maybe she should have visited sooner? Either way, it always gave her a tense and paralyzed feeling whenever she thought about it, but this morning, she finally made up her mind that she was simply _going_ , and that was that, but now that she's here, she has no idea what to do.

She notices that she's been staring at her feet for the last thirty seconds.

She doesn't want to look at the headstone, or the flowers, or the name. Hell, she doesn't want to look at the dead-silent world around her, with its blue sky and perfect weather and vivid flowers.

She's letting her thoughts wander to anything, things that don't matter, and she knows exactly why, but she can't- she still can't-

…

Cass bites her lip and coughs away the sob that wants to get out.

The cemetery is still.

…

She remembers something, even though she's not trying to. It was only six months or so after they'd lost their parents. Hiro had been having a tantrum, and he'd thrown a cup full of apple juice at the wall- and Tadashi, her eight-year-old, thoughtful, patient nephew, had looked at her and very seriously told her that Hiro was going to need some 'serious road models' in his life.

There's the ghost of a laugh, and a swelling in her throat at the same time- Cass hugs her arms tight around her torso. A bird flies low, over a few other gravestones in the corner of her eye.

And now she's seeing him at seventeen, proudly standing in front of a shiny new moped in the garage- and she's stunned, because she knew he'd been saving up, but not _that_ much, and she's babbling forty things at once because she's torn between _I'm so proud of you_ and _listen up mister, here are the safety rules you are GOING to follow, and this is not a discussion_ but he already has a printout of California's statutes regarding two-wheeled motor vehicles in his shirt pocket, because he's the most prepared person she's ever met- and Hiro flies past her and immediately asks Tadashi if he can drive it, and Cass has _never_ been more grateful to her nephew than when he bops the paper on Hiro's forehead and cheerfully says, "Not a chance, knucklehead."

Now he's- he's walking out of the showcase, one arm around Hiro, the other giving his younger brother a noogie as they both laugh, and he's so full of pride and joy he looks like he'll burst, and _Hiro_ looks so happy, and they- they're both-

Cass bites down on her lip.

She hates, hates, _hates_ that it's so warm.

"I guess I'm not sure what to say."

Say something, say anything, because it's better than keeping it all swirling around in her head, getting darker and heavier and never seeing the light-

"It's been… tough. But we're- we'll be alright."

Cass swallows. Her words sound so- so _small_ , and useless, like rocks thrown out into the ocean and vanishing forever. Or a single shadow, a silhouette, powerless against the blinding light of a roaring-

"We'll be-" she tries again, but the words fade. It's quiet. It's so quiet, and warm, and peaceful, and- and she can't-

Her foot jerks back. She's _dizzy_ , she realizes suddenly, almost shaking- only her foot moving automatically kept her from falling over. Slowly, hesitating, she kneels down until she's resting on the grass, sitting in front of the stone cross-legged.

Then, Cass breathes out. And closes her eyes, and leans forward, and her head is in her hands, and…

"…I just don't know."

It's a sob more than it is words, and she's breathing loudly, now, with hiccups and gasps because she can't even _think_ , let alone say anything more- because it hurts too much, and she doesn't know what to do, because there's no one here- no one to help-

She hears birds, even through her crying, and for some irrational reason that strikes her as _ridiculous_ , because it's autumn and it's a graveyard and she's hurting and weeping and why on earth are there _birds singing in the trees?_ And randomly, without any logical reason, that last memory comes to mind again- the steps of the auditorium- and his friends are scattering to the parking lot, intent on heading to the Lucky Cat, and she turns back to see him smiling- they're both smiling-

"Aunt Cass? We'll, uh… we'll catch up, okay?"

And- that was it. That was the last thing he ever said to her. What did she say back, though? What was the last thing…

"Oh, I'm so proud of you! Both of you!"

It's some small, pitiful measure of grace that their last encounter was a heartfelt and happy moment. Even so, it doesn't feel like nearly enough, like- like she should have said a million other things, should have- should have reached out and _stopped_ him-

No. No, no, she won't let herself start thinking that way. It's hard enough without- without blaming herself. She can't start… no. She won't. Cass takes a shuddering breath, and finally looks back up at the gravestone, and forces herself to keep her gaze steady.

"Tadashi, I- I don't know," she whispers again. "I don't know if I can do this again."

Birds. Sun. Blue sky.

"…I love you so much," she says, quieter still, not quiet enough to mask the way her voice breaks, like the sound and the air and the words can't quite come together, reaching down into her lungs and breaking what she meant to say, because she could _never_ say all that she wanted to- her throat closes up, and there's another heaving sob, and she has to close her eyes and hold her breath until it passes.

One. Two.

Breathe out, and the leaves rustle in the trees overhead- maybe the bird flew away, because she can't hear its singing anymore.

Three. Four.

Breathe. Her eyes open, and- the grass is dead brown and faded green, almost tan some places- it hasn't rained much recently, and she dimly remembers hearing warnings about being careful with flames of any kind, to avoid starting wildfires- it's a stupid, cruel irony, and she wishes she could stop herself from thinking of things like that. It rises up in her like bile, angry and bitter, angry at herself and at that professor and the school for having that stupid contest in the first place-

…

But no, it's mostly her.

It's _all_ her, the more she thinks about it.

Say something else, again- anything- because it's better than keeping it all-

"This is going to sound… strange," she begins, then closes her eyes again, willing herself to push it all to the side, because she's not _thinking_ about that right now. She's thinking about- "Those heroes. Um. They showed up when that professor was- he was trying to destroy a building, I think, and a lot of people were in danger."

She tries to smile. "They stopped him, so no one was hurt- and no one's seen them since. Everyone's been calling them heroes, but… I don't know what to think. They just appeared, one day, and then they were gone."

It feels kind of silly, telling a story to an empty field, but she makes herself focus on the name on the stone, and pulls the words out of her mind like pulling a heavy rope from a well. "Some even… they flew into the-" She trails off. "I'm not sure, exactly. No one can agree what really happened, but- they saved someone's life. She was one of the scientists who worked for Krei."

She pauses. It's strange, because- he'd _want_ to talk about this, and he and Hiro would love to discuss the story, with heroes and science and the future of research corporations hanging in the balance- she can practically see them, arguing over the dinner table, about which hero was the coolest and how this would affect scientific experiments going forward, and the potential of the experiment she barely even knew about, and… and he would explain it to her, over and over, patiently. Hiro would cut in to make snarky comments, and Tadashi would casually reach over and slap a hand over his mouth- and all three of them would be making each other laugh.

That moment- all of them, so many nights and mornings and trips and simple, everyday moments-

All of it, gone.

She pushes it to the side. Again. "It was dangerous," she continues. "They must have been… terrified. But- they went in, anyway."

Just say it, because if she says it- if she can tell herself the real reason this is all connected, the reason it's making her cry just to think about it, then… Cass smiles through tears, and clears her throat. "In a way, it… made me think of you."

…

Nothing changes. It's still quiet, still warm, still… bright.

She stands up-

A bit dizzy, but it passes, and she looks back to the gravestone-

She sighs, because there's nothing more to say-

But there _is,_ because she had no idea how much she relied on him, especially with Hiro, and now she doesn't know _what_ to do about him, because he- he looked up to him so much, even if he would never admit it, and she… she always dreamed of seeing them both succeed, and grow up, and change the world-

Well. Maybe next time.

Cass cracks her back, and feels the sunlight on her face.

…

…

…

…

…

…

Halloween comes quickly.

Someone comes to school in a Yokai costume.

Hiro sees him in the morning, between classes, and by lunch the sophomore Chem major has already been dragged to the dean's office and even questioned by campus security. One of the chattier professors muses on the 'incident' during a lecture, which quickly brings up a class-wide debate on the ethics of using a known domestic terrorist as a party costume. Go Go's in the class with him, and he has to grab her elbow a few times to stop her from leaping up and throttling a couple of seniors who joke about the whole thing a little too lightly for her liking.

Hiro knows she's watching him, the whole time. Trying to see if he's doing okay.

He's not, obviously, but he doesn't need to have the whole damn school knowing that.

It's a particularly weird day. The other students already treat Hiro with a strange combination of 'Isn't-that-the-genius-kid' whisperings, cautious distance, 'sorry-for-your-loss' reverence, fondness for the brother of a school legend, and 'outta the way, short stack' holdover from high school. Today, though, it's even stranger- it seems everyone hears about the costume within a few hours. Conversations die down to a whisper when he passes by. Furtive glances and lowered eyes seem to follow and not-follow him through the halls.

Callaghan's arguably more famous than Tadashi, after all. The school's reeling. And even if the student body doesn't know how the skinny kid brushing shoulders with them in the hallway had a few robot-augmented fistfights with Yokai, they certainly know that Callaghan came out of that fire, and Tadashi didn't.

"I'm not gonna say don't worry about it," Wasabi says when they finally get a chance to eat lunch in a quiet- well, relatively quiet- corner of the cafeteria. "But… I don't know. I hope you can… not worry about it?"

"That guy's a moron," Go Go says flatly, stabbing a piece of popcorn chicken like it personally offended her. "I wouldn't waste your thought on him. Who thinks something like that's a good idea?"

"You see the news crew?" Fred asks in a hushed tone. "They came by the front office a little bit ago. I think they're running a story on it."

"You're kidding," Honey says. "That's… why give him any more attention? That'll just make things worse!"

Go Go shrugs. "Apparently, this is a pretty big deal. You guys check Facebook today?" When she doesn't get a response, she goes back to attacking the pieces of chicken on the Styrofoam plate. "Good. Don't."

"Hiro?" Honey says quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you doing okay?"

What do you know, the exact question he's getting really sick of. "M'fine," he mumbles, not looking away from his food. He hasn't exactly eaten any of it, but still.

"Are you sure?" she says tentatively. "Because it's totally okay if you're-"

"I said I'm _fine_ ," he snaps, and- and immediately regrets it. That was… yeah, that was a snap, and there's no getting around it. Especially since the less-than-stellar way he acted in front of her last time. "Sorry," he says preemptively, trying to ward off the awkward silence that's definitely starting around the whole table. "Sorry, I didn't mean that, I…"

"It's alright, little man," Wasabi says. Then, he speaks a bit louder, getting the others' attention. "Can we talk about something else? Thinking about that guy's making me lose my appetite."

"Same," Hiro says, giving him a weak smile as he pushes his tray forward, to the middle of the table. "Go crazy, Fred."

"Excuse me?" Fred has his serious face on, which is a clear sign that he's trying to be overly serious in a funny way, to lighten the mood. It's a weird dynamic, but Hiro's started to recognize the signs. "Hiro Hamada, do you know how often the grill station does popcorn chicken on this campus? Not often, is the answer. Very not often. _Never_ often."

"If he doesn't want our school's overdone, chewy excuse for real food, let him be," Go Go says with a raised eyebrow.

" _Oh._ " Fred splays both hands out on the table, and Hiro relaxes a little, because they're officially in the Fred-and-Friends Comedy Zone, now, and he has at least a small break from thinking about the costume. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were dealing with professional popcorn chicken critics over here. Do you send food back to the kitchen at restaurants, too? Would you refuse free money because the bills are rumpled and slightly torn? That's called leading a gift horse to water, Go Go-" (There's a slightly disappointed " _so close_ " from Wasabi's direction) "-and if you can't appreciate the finer things in life, then I truly pity you."

Honey's brow furrows in confusion. "So, you're… not taking the chicken?"

"No, obviously I'm going to, but that's not the point."

"Also," Go Go pipes up, "I'd like to point out the irony that Mansion Boy is calling popcorn chicken one of the 'finer things in life'."

He stares. "What irony?"

There's a beat of silence, before Hiro snorts into his water bottle, and pretty soon the others are laughing, too. Fred has a wide-eyed look of innocence, repeatedly asking 'What?', and if he's in on the joke, it becomes clear that he's not going to admit it. "Whatever, losers," he says a beat later. "Joke's on you, because only one of us here has chicken, and spoiler alert, he's not sharing."

"I'm with Go Go," Wasabi says. "It's really not that good."

"Mmf. That'sh jealoushy talking, my man."

"Oh my God, Fred, close your mouth when you talk."

The table goes silent for just a second, as Go Go realizes what she said. "That's not what I meant," she says quickly, but it's too late- Fred's already laughing through his food, and Honey is fiddling with her phone, probably having given up entirely on the conversation. "Fred, that is _not_ what I meant. Shut up. It's not even that funny."

"HM. HM MM HM? HM HMMM!"

It takes Hiro a second to figure it out, but Fred's actually talking with his mouth completely closed. Which is basically just humming. His cheeks are flared out like a chipmunk, and for some reason, the whole spectacle makes Wasabi laugh so hard he almost chokes, and-

…

Something hits him.

Not nostalgia, and not a memory. Hiro can't figure out what it is, for a second, wistful and sad and… something else, something he can't place, something that cuts through his friends' laughter and jokes and the overall sense that _this is a happy moment-_

Wait. That's it.

This is… normal.

His friends are here. He's happy. He's living his life. And the pang of surprise returns, because he- he hasn't had this, before. Certainly not in high school. And really, he's only ever been close with Tadashi. After the fire, he… sort of thought that was gone for good.

"Hey." Honey nudges his shoulder again. "Everything alright?"

He has to smile, because she's willing to see how he's doing not two minutes after he snapped at her for asking the same question. Fred and Go Go have already spiraled into another argument, so the attention isn't solely on him this time, and he shrugs. "It's just weird," he says; and he can't put the whole feeling into words, so he only goes for part of it. "Us. Being here. Like… everything's normal, you know?"

Normal, even after the fire. But he suddenly thinks of another meaning, and quickly jumps at the chance. "I mean, we've jumped off of buildings, you know?" He lifts one shoulder, lowering his voice and grinning slightly. "We're superheroes."

It lands during a lull in the others' talking, so there's no way the entire table doesn't hear it. His face starts to go red, and Honey cuts in, probably trying to save any embarrassment. "Yeah," she says brightly. "A few weeks ago, we were trying to track down criminals, and last night, I was panicking about having a test fourth period."

"Less 'saving the world', more 'debating the merits of popcorn chicken'," Wasabi says with a sigh.

"Eh, it was never really the whole world," Fred says. "More like-"

" _-mistake!"_

 _-they're in danger-_

" _-it, Baymax!-"_

 _-his hand, flinging out-_

" _-wanted-"_

The thoughts come out of nowhere, heavy and dark and slicing through everything else. Hiro realizes he's gripping the table in front of him so hard that his knuckles are white.

"-just the one city. Or… really, pretty much just that one building? Krei's new summer home or whatever?" Fred leans back in his chair. "We basically waged a grand battle over, like, two blocks."

…Where on earth did _that_ feeling come from?

"Well, we'll get back to it. Right?" Wasabi hesitantly glances over to Hiro. "This was never just a one-time thing, yeah?"

It suddenly seems like they're all waiting for him to say something. Hiro tries to avoid the sensation of a spotlight on a stage. "No, for sure," he says in a rush. "I mean- it's just that, I don't think, without Baymax, the- I'm not- just-" He closes his eyes, and _knows_ his face is going red again. "I can't do it without him," he finally says.

"No, of course!" Wasabi says. "I just meant, once he's back. Once you're finished."

For some reason, that last phrase hits him like a punch to the gut. _Once you're finished._ Because he's tried to tone down the excitement from the first day, tried to make it clear that this will probably take a lot longer than he thought, but… it's still hard not to feel like he's letting them down every day Baymax isn't here. Like he's letting _everyone_ down.

The next logical question is, 'How's that work coming along?' He can almost hear the words.

None of them ask.

They probably feel like they shouldn't, or can't, and that- that makes him feel even _worse_ , because it's taking so long, and he doesn't know how to talk about it. He doesn't know how to explain, or if he should apologize, or…

"Oh, guys. Guys. Guys guys _guys."_

Fred suddenly slams his hands down on the table, shocking Hiro out of his thoughts. "GuysIforgottotellyouabouttheparty," he says so quickly that it mostly sounds like gibberish.

"Huh? Nah, you told us, like, weeks ago," Wasabi says with eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, but like, I didn't _tell_ you about it," Fred says in a rush. "The new stuff. It's gonna be so sick. Can you guess how many different kinds of booze will be at this party? No, don't guess, actually. It's a surprise. Oh man oh man I'm so excited _you guys don't even know."_

The chattering continues, detailing exactly how much snack food will be available, and exactly how long it took Heathcliff to deck out the mansion's basement with working neon lights and rig up a sound system for the DJ he's renting for the night. And in the middle of the excited details- _Fred, why do you need a DJ and also a karaoke machine at the same party-_ Hiro realizes he completely forgot about this. Fred mentioned it, probably, earlier in the month, but it never really registered.

Huh. He doesn't exactly have any other plans, but…

"A karaoke machine doesn't need a reason, HL," Fred says earnestly. "It _is_ the reason."

"Reason for what?"

"Exactly." He pointedly ignores her confusion over the answer, and points at each of them in turn. "You're all coming, right? Right. And costumes are a necessity. Costumes are mandatory. I will straight-up kick you out of my house if you're not wearing a costume."

"Um, I don't-" Hiro says.

"Way to invite a minor, then loudly announce how much alcohol will be at the party, Einstein," Go Go says.

"Oh, dude, that's no problem if he doesn't drink any! And don't worry, bud-" He turns to Hiro with a grin. "My man H makes a punch out of like ten different sodas and an obscene amount of ice cream, and it is _dope._ " He pauses. "I, uh, realize 'dope' isn't the best choice of words, given the topic, but I stand by it."

"Whoa, Fred." Looking alarmed, Honey Lemon leans forward and puts her hands on the table. "Look, I'm not a stickler for rules, but- he's _fourteen._ Do you really think it's a good idea?"

Go Go shrugs. "I mean, high schoolers go to parties. High schoolers drink. Hell, he's _past_ high school."

"Guys-"

Honey Lemon reaches over to smack Go Go's elbow with a scowl, but Wasabi interrupts. "And if you think about it, Hiro's probably the most mature fourteen-year-old in the state. He's fine."

"Guys!"

"I'm not saying he can't handle himself, but I don't want anyone to get arrested," Honey says angrily.

"Oh, gotcha." Fred nods sagely, and gives Hiro a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, bud. I'll come visit you in prison."

"Fred, I was talking about _you!"_ she blurts out. "Do you know how much trouble you can get in for serving alcohol to-"

"Nobody's _serving_ anything, it's just-"

"Stop it!"

It happened again.

He hears it as soon as the words are out- something in the tone of his own voice, something snapping and explosive and way too angry. Honey flinches, and Go Go raises her eyebrows, and Fred even stops talking completely; Hiro can tell that Awkward Silence Round Two is starting up, so he tries to cut it off as fast as he can. "I just- don't want to," he says weakly. "Not, uh, really in the mood. You know."

"What? _What?_ Hiro, my man! My bro! Buddy! My tiny science elf! You can't just- _oof-"_ Fred abruptly runs out of breath, and Hiro guesses that what Honey meant to be a gentle, chiding elbow nudge ended up being a pretty substantial jab to the stomach. She glares at him, with a really not-subtle nod of her head in Hiro's direction, and… yeah, they're doing the 'don't talk about it' deal again. Hiro hates it when they try to do that; like they're trying to protect him by not mentioning certain things.

"It's okay," he says, and suddenly he wants to hurry up and get it out in the open. "Yeah, I got freaked out by the costume. And… that's pretty much the reason I don't want to go." He spreads his arms out, in a sarcastically grand gesture. "There it is."

Honey looks a little startled, and Wasabi seems surprised as well. Go Go just shrugs. "Fair enough. You don't want to, you don't have to." She puts her elbows on the table, one hand propping up her chin. "And Fred, do you really want to do this in the first place?"

"Huh?" Wincing slightly, he huffs. "Whaddya mean? Why wouldn't I?"

"It's just, your place is nice. Like, really nice." Go Go pauses, probably trying to let the words sink in. "Sure you want a bunch of drunk college kids to trash it?"

"What, cleaning? No problem." Fred casually grabs some fries off Honey's plate. "Believe me, Heathcliff will be glad for the distraction. You can only… I dunno, dust the mantleplace so many times."

"Huh. Somehow, I doubt your housekeeper will appreciate a hundred drunk rabble-rousers trashing his estate."

"Also, 'mantleplace' isn't a word," Wasabi adds.

"What? Yes it is. It's like, the…" Fred makes a vague waving motion. "The little shelf thing! Over the fireplace!"

"Yeah, that's just a mantle. That's what it's called."

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm right."

Hiro leans back in his chair, grateful that the conversation has pulled away from him again. Until Honey lowers her voice and whispers, "Sorry about all that."

"Huh?" He turns his head slightly. "About… what?"

She looks down at her hands. "The whole thing, I guess."

He's not sure what she means- honestly, he's not even sure what he himself is mad about- but he shoves the feeling down, and lifts his shoulders with another attempt at a smile. "It's fine," he says. "You guys can snap me the highlights."

"Will do," she says, and turns back to the others, while the conversation fades to gray around him, and he ignores the prickling sensation that he's pulling away from them- it's just a dumb party, he reminds himself, and it doesn't matter that all four of them look a lot happier than he's felt in weeks. Even when Go Go repeatedly asks Fred what time people will be arriving, and Fred holds strong in pretending he didn't hear her, leading her to get more and more frustrated- _God, Go Go, I can't understand you when you TALK WITH YOUR MOUTH OPEN LIKE THAT-_ he still can't muster up more than a halfhearted laugh. And it's just _dim_ , somehow, the cafeteria lights and Fred ruffling his hair before they split up and the voice of his physics professor droning on, later, and suddenly two periods have gone by and he barely remembers doing anything. Okay, he might have briefly fallen asleep in the lecture after lunch, but hey, to hear Fred tell it, that's practically tradition for college students. He pointedly ignores his brain's reminder that Fred is not, in fact, a college student, and even if he was, he probably wouldn't be the best example to emulate.

The point is, it's not a big deal. It's not the end of the world if he can't remember what Doctor Miyazaki asked them to have ready for Monday, or if Wasabi has to call his name four or five times before he snaps his head up and sees that he's in the lab with him, or if… he doesn't actually remember, for a second, why he's in the lab. Because he blinks, and looks in front of him, and sees that he's doing more research at the lab computers, and he has three different articles tabbed in the search engine on the screen. It's fine. He's fine.

"-probably a good idea, anyway. I mean, the idea of Fred setting up any kind of gathering pretty much gives me hives to begin with, but a party?" Wasabi shakes his head, and Hiro tries his best to focus in on what he's saying. "The possibilities are… endless. And terrifying."

"I should tell him you said that," Hiro responds, tearing his eyes away from the computer.

"Yeah? He'd probably take it as a compliment." Wasabi hefts his backpack, hesitating near the lab exit. "Anyway, I'll… well, everyone's pretty busy this weekend, so I guess I'll probably see you Monday?"

He doesn't sound like he usually does. And maybe it's because Hiro's worrying over nothing, or because… because he doesn't…

That thought comes back. _Knowing_ people.

…It's only been a few weeks.

He blinks again. "Right. See ya."

As soon as he leaves, the lab is… not quiet, because Hiro can still hear the chatter of conversation as the vast majority of students, barring any evening classes, all start the exodus off of campus. But it's still. There's a junior in the back corner gathering up some notes, but she takes off before long, and it's Hiro by himself again.

And that's fine. It's _absolutely_ fine, he tells himself, because he should be working anyway. He has the articles in front of him, and he's not even halfway through notating the second one; and after that, he still has to sort through the relevant information and figure out exactly how it applies to the coding on Baymax's chip. And concurrently with that little project, he still has to find a way of asking the professors in the Robotics department for more info, without making it clear that he's trying to restore a highly advanced medical database in a plush, blinking, vaguely confused body.

There's so much work to do.

And he's… across the room, near the exit to the hallway. Hiro pauses, and frowns. He… stood up, obviously, and walked over here. To leave? To go to the bathroom. Right. That's all.

Things have been feeling kinda disjointed, recently. Bits and specks of time, and suddenly he's somewhere else, without a concrete memory of what moved in between. He winces, because he can just _hear_ Ba-

He can hear T-

…

-he can just _hear_ Wasabi telling him that he needs to get more sleep. All this busy work, combined with his hectic school schedule and tendency to stay up far too late, can't be good for him. But he shrugs it off, as he's coming back from the bathroom. _Everyone_ is busy, here. Every student isn't getting the perfect, doctor-recommended eight hours or whatever. It's fine.

Hiro stares at the computer screen again.

He's so tired.

…

He could just go home. Try to get more done with his garage setup. Or just crash, and hope tomorrow's better. Of course, that would mean another round of awkward-silence-bingo with Aunt Cass, who's been acting _really_ weird lately- half the time she's treating him like he's fragile or something, tiptoeing around as if she's afraid to say the wrong thing. And the other half, she's grilling him with questions about being _okay_ and constantly going on about how he's not getting enough sleep and everything. He's really sick of it.

He remembers looking at his phone, considering texting one of the others to ask if the party's still going. He remembers noticing that the battery's almost gone. He definitely remembers feeling tense, and antsy, and impulsive, and exhausted, because the work is going so, so slowly-

-and he looks over to the screen again, and the endless paragraphs of research that don't even seem to be _helping_ …

He knows where the mansion is. And the trams are always running.

Oh, and the other thing he very definitely remembers: thinking to himself that he's never gone to the mansion without Baymax before.

Hiro does _not_ remember walking to the tram stop. He remembers the wait, tapping his foot to a tinny techno-pop song blaring through the speakers overhead, bumping his backpack against the floor while the lights slip past the long windows and the whole cart speeds down the rails. He doesn't really remember getting off, and walking the last few streets towards his destination.

Disconnected, random spots of time, sort of blurring together. He's not sure if he should be worried about that. But once again, he shoulders the thought aside, and stops when he rounds the last corner.

So.

Here he is.

Part of him was hoping it wouldn't be as big and crazy as they joked about at lunch. After all, he figured, he's the school mascot- he can't be that popular, right? Doesn't exactly seem like the 'cool guy' type to know everyone in the school.

But lo and behold, when he makes his way from the tram stop to the avenue with the lights of the mansion glittering off the cars in the street… the many, _many_ cars… he swallows, and realizes that there are hundreds of people here. Maybe that's not even that many, for a party like this. He doesn't know. He's never really done this kind of thing before.

That last thought only makes him more nervous and sick-feeling, so he tries to ignore it as he finally scales the steps and opens the front door. Heathcliff must be busy somewhere else-

Oh. Wow.

 _That's… dedication,_ Hiro thinks.

First of all, the grand foyer is darker than he remembers. The only light is a gigantic, Gothic-looking, straight-out-of-a-horror-movie chandelier that seems to slowly turn, so the shadows are always shifting around the room; Hiro's pretty sure he doesn't remember this room even _having_ a chandelier before.

Lightning flashes at the exact same time a rumble of thunder echoes around the room, and Hiro flinches before he realizes it's a clear night outside, and Fred actually, honestly rigged up a fake storm machine somewhere in this room. There's a goofy, grinning skeleton dangling a few yards ahead of him- probably dropped when the first people showed up, he guesses. Cautiously stepping around it, he's able to hear the faint pounding of a deep bassline, so at least there's music playing somewhere.

"Master Hiro." Okay, _that_ was actually scary. Hiro nearly jumps, but forces himself to calmly turn around- and then tries his hardest not to laugh, because Heathcliff is wearing the exact same impeccable suit as always, with a cardboard-cutout Frankenstein's monster mask barely hiding his face. It honestly looks Fred got it from a cereal box. "I have been asked to inform you… Boo."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." Still a bit startled, Hiro rubs the back of his neck. "So, uh… where is everybody?"

"Most of Frederick's guests have taken up residence in the den," he says, nodding towards the main hallway. "There are refreshments in the kitchen, of course, but those of the… alcoholic variety have already been moved as close to the 'dance floor' as possible. His instructions were very clear."

"Yeah?"

"Indeed. I believe he said," Heathcliff pauses and coughs, before straightening with as much dignity as he can muster. "That he 'needed the booze for the cruisin' tunes'."

Seeing Heathcliff's deadpan expression while saying those words is so surreal, Hiro can't even bring himself to laugh. "Right," he says eventually. "And you're- you're cool with all this?"

The eyes blinked behind the monster mask. "I have been assured that both Master Frederick, and those he personally invited into this household, will be on their best behavior."

"Huh." Hiro looks to the hallway again, listening as the bass changes to a new song. He still can't hear anything else. "You believe him?"

"Not in the slightest," Heathcliff says bluntly. "I'm obliged to tell you to refrain from any alcoholic beverages, but otherwise- enjoy the party, Hiro." With a bow, and what sounds like a resigned sigh, he disappears back toward the rest of the house. _Probably to 'scare' more guests,_ Hiro thinks with a smile. He'll definitely have to give Fred some grief about that "cruisin' tunes" line, later.

He gets more used to the house's ambiance as he makes his way through- more than one hallway has rubber spiders that drop from the ceiling, and Hiro's less scared than curious about how they get back up each time. When he finally gets to the kitchen, and shoulders past a couple dozen people who don't spare him a glance, there's some kind of swamp-monster-thing that looks like it's crawling out of the sink; where, exactly, is Fred getting all these realistic-looking decorations? Or maybe Heathcliff just takes care of it all. Who knows. Hiro shakes his head, batting away the ghostlike hand that jumps out of the toaster when he reaches for the bowl of candy on the counter.

Of course, when he actually tries to _open_ a pack of gummi bears, he gets a facefull of tiny foam snakes bursting out instead. Okay, Fred got him with that one.

He jams a few real candy bars in his pocket, and pours himself a glass of the, admittedly pretty delicious, punch. And he looks around, suddenly noticing how quiet it is, outside of the still-rumbling bass from below. The people around him are engrossed in conversation, groups of two and three and four, standing around and drinking and laughing and… whatever. They all blur together, somewhat. He can't really bring himself to care.

Huh. Happy Halloween.

…For some reason, Hiro suddenly feels like kind of an idiot.

Why'd he come here, exactly? To prove something? This is supposed to be… normal, right? Just what teenagers do? And he's never been a part of this scene, but he's not- he's not trying to-

…He doesn't know why he's here.

He scowls down at the drink, thinking back to where he last left the research. A jumble of hypotheses and contradictions fills his brain, and he can't stop worrying about the last major problem he's run into, with a particularly complicated bit of the code in the chip. It's just such a _mess._ And he's not moving forward- at least, it feels like he's not.

But hey, maybe he can at least find the others, here. Of course, to do that, he'll have to head to the den. Heh. Literally face the music. He's not sure why he doesn't want to.

You know what? Screw it.

Maybe it's a little cliché to take a swig of his drink and slam it down on the counter, but whatever. It's just soda, anyway.

The music only gets louder the closer he gets to the den- in fact, he's heard this one before. Tadashi used to- the café played this over the speakers, sometimes. Simple, loud bassline, with a pretty annoyingly catchy chorus that repeats a million times. He doesn't really love it.

But he's never heard it like this.

Whatever sound system Fred has hooked up, it must be top-friggin'-dollar, because he can _feel_ every beat shaking the house. And it only gets worse, the closer he gets. He turns a corner, and the hallway opposite is, um, occupied.

He spins on his heel and tries a different route, before the two matching prince-and-princess costumes have a chance to stop making out and notice him.

It should _not_ be this difficult to find his way. His face burns, and not just because of the awkward display he just walked in on. He's been here before, so he really should know how to get around, but… it's so different like this. The rooms and halls alternate between dim and blinding, and the thumping music doesn't help his coordination at all. In fact, he's… starting to feel kind of sick.

Not nauseous, but sort of pained. More tired than usual. Once again, he shoves the feeling away and keeps forward, until he finally gets to the bottom of yet another stairway, and a landing, and another doorway, and-

…

 _Fred,_ he thinks, _you've gotta be kidding me._

He's found the party, alright. Once his eyes adjust to the rapidly flashing lights, he can see the rhythmic forms of people dancing, crowded so close together that he can't tell how far back the den even goes. A few partygoers are off to the side, at one of the tables with all the drinks, but the vast majority are bouncing on their feet and swaying with the pulsing bass of some hit song he's vaguely heard over the radio. True to his word, Fred got nearly everyone to commit to the Halloween theme- Hiro can see a vampire dancing with a pretty spot-on David Bowie, until a wizard hat blocks his view and a couple of giggling, stumbling… aliens, maybe? They have those weird antenna-headbands, at least… nearly crash into him as they try to stagger away from the group.

Hah. He actually forgot about the costume thing.

(And maybe he flinches once or twice when a mask covers a face completely, or a mask looks his way with blank eyes- but it's Halloween, for crying out loud. It's fine.)

He dips out of the way, leaning against the wall to take a better look at the room. There's a DJ near the far wall near the giant speakers, another table with drinks, and a hallway leading to… actually, considering the scantily-clad 'nurse' and 'cowboy' who disappear in that direction, already fumbling with each other's clothes, Hiro really doesn't want to know where that hallway leads. He grimaces, trying not to think about it too much. Apparently mansions are the place to be, when it comes to… yeah.

That's when he notices the colors. He saw them when he stepped into the den, an explosion of greens and blues and reds all blurring together, a strobelight on the ceiling and flashing beams across the room and glowsticks _everywhere_. There's a moment where he's sickeningly reminded of technicolor clouds, blurring and melting together in a frozen vortex that never stops moving- but it passes, and he soon realizes what they actually are.

Red, purple, hot pink, bright yellow, and a nearly-turquoise sort of green. And of course, some of the lights have speckled combinations of orange and blue.

To the crowds, it might just look like Fred's going for a crazy neon rainbow look, but there's no doubt- those are their colors. Their hero colors.

Fred is absolutely crazy.

In fact, Hiro's just about to track him down and chew him out for potentially giving away their secret; then, he stops. The glowsticks, the music, the ranging-from-tipsy-to-plastered crowd dancing in the center of the room, all starts to blur together. And Hiro thinks- back to how tired he's been, how much work he's done, how strained things are with Aunt Cass, how frustrating the research has been, how draining the university work has become, how he feels tense and angry no matter how much he tries not to.

He's pretty sure he can feel the sugar buzz from the drink, too.

A deep breath. He narrows his eyes, and thinks again:

 _Screw it._

He slips in just before the bass drop- he doesn't really know how to dance, but who cares? It's practically impossible to see anyone anyway. It's surprising how quickly he gets in a rhythm, with the pounding bass giving a steady line to follow. It's probably ridiculous, objectively, the way he moves his arms and feet, but he doesn't bother looking at anyone else. He'd probably lose his nerve if he did. Instead, he just keeps going, pretending he's confident about this. Just like everything else. The thought crosses his mind again, that he's awfully good at pretending.

It's almost better that he doesn't recognize anyone, so far. He stops looking for any faces in particular, focusing on the song and how it feels to just _move._ The whole thing about exercising to relieve stress, and moving somehow helping with what's going on with your mind, never made much sense to him. But, somehow, this is alright. It feels good. And the people around him seem caught up in it, too- nobody's wasting time with talking, or working through complicated problems, or worrying about anything.

Right now, here, in this moment, he doesn't have to _do_ something. So he lets himself stop thinking about everything except the next bass drop.

Just before it lands, he recognizes the feeling. The buzz, the slight shaking across his arms and in his head and full of energy- it's not just the sugar. It feels like… flying.

He's flying. It stops him for a second, only a second, because the drop is coming back- and it's loud. Really loud. And when he bobs his head down on the beat- the song's not anywhere close to a mosh pit, but everyone's still going for it- it makes him kind of dizzy, and his head aches a bit, but it's worth it. He doesn't know why, but it _feels_ worth it.

The song ends. There's some cheering. Nobody's looking his way- other than one or two people who notice _hey, there's someone really short dancing over here._ But they don't seem to care.

It's… kind of nice.

Somebody hands him a glowstick, as the next track starts up. He blinks at it for a second- it's already lit up in a strange shade of purple, looking almost like a blacklight.

More and more people recognize the song, and start dancing again. He's not sure why, but he connects the glowstick in a ring and sets it in his hair like a headband.

So now, of course, there's a strange, otherworldly, dark kind of light wherever he turns, making the whole scene even more unreal. Perfect. He grins when the DJ starts a countdown or something- probably another drop. These songs are too predictable, but- looking around at how excited everyone is, at how they're just relaxing, enjoying their lives, having a good time- maybe that's the point.

Sure enough, the music's building and building. He's never wanted to do the whole 'headbang' thing, before, but for some reason, it suddenly seems like it might be fun. He can tell everyone's ready.

"Three…"

There are people behind him, too, jostling and bumping as the crowd moves. He staggers, but gets his balance again, so it's fine.

"Two…"

The electric sound is getting louder, and the bass drop is going to _hurt_ , he's sure of it. But it's fine. He's fine. Somebody spills a drink a few people in front of him.

"One…"

Here it comes. He laughs out loud, because he can feel the energy of the song in his bones, excited and alive and burning. The lights at the end of the room are starting to really spaz out now, flashing on and off so quickly the whole room looks like it's frozen in time, like the pages of a flipbook. It hurts his eyes. But he's fine. He feels _good._

"FIRE."

What?

The voice on the track is deep and growling, just an instant later than he expected the bass drop- and then _finally_ it hits, but it's with the sound of a gunshot. Literally, recorded into the track. And it's _loud._

That's when the dancers around him feel the beat, and start raving in earnest; almost immediately, somebody's elbow collides with his shoulder, and he can't see anything except glowsticks on arms, glowsticks wrapped around bottles, glowsticks hanging like necklaces. Lights everywhere, but he can't see.

The music is so loud.

He blinks, and something hits his back- and he's on the ground, on one knee, suddenly, but he doesn't remember falling. The floor's shaking with the beat. His ears hurt.

He dimly wonders if he's about to get trampled. Raves aren't supposed to get this crazy indoors… right? He suddenly notices his back is wet. His _shirt_ is wet. Booze has a distinct smell, and- when someone knocked him over accidentally, they must have dropped their drink, too, because cheap beer is soaking through his shirt right now.

Scrambling, ears ringing, he tries to stand up as quickly as he can, before making his way past the people around him. They're all tall, all moving and dancing and twisting so he can hardly figure out where he's going, but he doesn't get shoved again, and soon he's… nearly out of the group, for sure. He has to be. And he's going the right way, right? If the DJ's over there, then…

He can't pinpoint where the music's coming from. The speakers were all around the room, right? And they're all so loud that he can't concentrate on getting away from any of them. And the vicious, hammerlike beat keeps going and going, with the occasional autotuned voice-

 _It's just a garbage song, with a dumb sci-fi hook that's supposed to sound like aliens fighting a war or something, it's not a big deal, it's fine-_

"FIRE."

He flinches when the gunshot rings out again. God, how can the lights be so disorienting when it's this dark? So dark that he can't even find his way out of- wait, didn't he start here? Where's the entrance to the den? He finds the wall, but he's still almost squished with how many people are here, and he barely stops before crashing straight into someone else.

He can't get out.

It's a stupid thought, stupid and ridiculous, and he _knows_ he's overreacting, because no one else is having a problem here- no one else is freaking out- and he's _not_ , he's fine, he's going to be fine, all he has to do is step away for a second-

He's just tired, that's all-

And he can't see anything but masks, but that's fine, it's _fine,_ he's not panicking, it's not- it's not that mask-

 _It's dark, but everything's moving, so fast so loud like millions of specks of black rushing over, chattering, building, pinning him in place, trapped, can't get out, no way out, it's too dangerous, he shouldn't have gone after him alone, he's going to die-_

 _And Baymax isn't here-_

"Hiro! Hey, H-"

Something grabs his shoulder.

 _Black glove black hand black coat black machines white mask-_

He's too stunned to yell, but he turns, and his arm moves in a panic, and pushes forward-

Somebody in a bulky costume topples back, clearly shocked, and trips when he bumps the person behind him, and he's got a blue and an orange glowstick, one around each wrist; the orange one falls off when he stumbles, finally losing his balance completely, forced into an awkward turn before he hits the ground. He can't avoid falling facedown, and he doesn't really have time to stop himself with his arms.

The music doesn't pause. Only a few people around them even notice. Even so, the image is frozen in Hiro's mind, and he knows right away that he won't be able to forget it.

Fred groans, and sits up as best he can. Hiro can't really see him that well, but then the lights flash again, and he gets a glance of the pained grimace on his friend's face. And- another frozen moment of light, and he can see two things with perfect clarity.

One, Fred is wearing a knock-off version of his _own superhero costume,_ with haphazard flames drawn onto a cardboard blue monster. Because secret identities are, apparently, overrated. It almost gets him to drop his jaw in disbelief.

Two, his- his nose is bleeding. Fred's nose is bleeding.

Hiro can't move. He doesn't feel like he can breathe.

Fred blinks, and-

-and an _instant_ , a single moment, disappearing as soon as it comes, he sees-

-but he grins, even chuckles, yells something Hiro can't hear over the pounding music. So he gets up, and rubs at his face, accidentally smearing some of the blood onto his cheek. "Yo, Hiro!" he says brightly. "Didn't think you were coming, man!"

"I, uh-" His throat is burning. The ringing in his ears isn't even real, it's just a thought, but it's somehow so loud he can't think. Nothing filters through his brain except the sense that he _has to get out of here._

"Now, I don't mean to be a stickler for rules-" Fred crosses his arms, with a smug look like the last thirty seconds never happened. "But I believe I was _very clear_ about a costume, sir. You're hurting me, Hiro. You wound me."

It's a joke. It's just a joke. Ha ha, no problem, it's fine, whatever, it's just a _joke._ Nobody's staring at him, Fred's not even angry, so why does he feel like-

"Bro, are you okay?" Fred steps closer, and his eyebrows raise in concern.

He blinks, and tries his best to break through the shock. "Y-yeah," he chokes out. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I- I'm really sorry."

"What, that?" Fred grins again. "Dude, I've been knocked over like three times tonight. Is this your first ever party, or what?"

 _Laugh, and shrug it off, because it's fine, he's fine, I'm fine-_

Something grips him, twisting in his chest, panicked and urgent; Hiro opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out, and he's moving, away, backward, trying to slip past the people around him, all of them still moving, dancing, swarming-

"FIRE."

He throws his hands over his ears, he doesn't know why, but it's too late, he already hears the gunshot-

 _Like the first ear-shattering instant of an explosion-_

He's gasping, struggling for air, and if he doesn't get out of this crowd- doesn't stop running into people, arms and bodies and lights and that _music_ , everywhere, loud, pushing, crushing- he doesn't know what will happen.

Fred's yelling his name. He doesn't turn around. Some part of his brain knows he's hyperventilating, but he- tries- to- push- it- away-

 _It's-_

 _Fine-_

His foot collides with something, and he topples forward. He cries out, and there's a horrifying moment where he's afraid he'll collapse to the ground completely, and get even more lost in the crowd.

Instead, he awkwardly falls on carpeted steps.

He lies there for a second, struggling to get his breath back under control, and finally realizes he's out of the den. Behind him, the party's going strong, but the music is the faintest bit quieter, and he feels like he can _hear_ again. His hands are shaking against the fibers of the carpet.

Next to him, someone holding a red cup giggles to herself, and casually strolls up the stairs. Just… taking a break from the dancing. No big deal.

He's so _stupid._

It floods him, a frustrated, berated feeling that he can't stop and he's pretty sure he doesn't _want_ to stop. This is completely ridiculous. He's not… some panicked kid, losing his mind over everything that happened. He's moving on. He's… doing things right. He has his friends, and his school, and the work on Baymax. He's fine.

But that thought falls short, too, when he realizes he can't stand up yet.

It takes him a few minutes, and he only has to tell two or three drunk peers that he's fine, he'll get to his feet by himself; but eventually, he's making his way up the steps, and the suffocating music and the flickering lights fade until he doesn't have to think about either of them. He's moving, at least, slowly making his way back through the mansion- he passes students that pay no attention to him, and he barely registers them, in kind- and he's sure he's getting closer to the main foyer, because from there he'll be able to leave, and get home, and- and do _something_ , sleep maybe, or maybe he should just head back to campus and sneak back into the lab and keep working.

Sure. Great idea. It's not like he's so exhausted he can barely think straight.

And that moment keeps replaying, over and over.

With a start, he realizes he doesn't recognize this room. In fact, he… might be farther from the entrance than when he started. This corridor/dining hall/whatever the hell rich people call a _room_ is gigantic, a rectangle shape that stretches so far in front of him he's not sure he can clearly see the other side; tall floor-to-ceiling windows look out onto the street in front of the mansion, and the light they let in is the only thing keeping this area from pitch darkness.

There's nothing here. A long, flat, empty floor. He growls, and starts towards the opposite end of the room, because if the windows face _that_ way, then at least he knows he's getting… closer…

Hiro stops halfway. The creaking of the door behind him sounds like- reminds him of-

- _have to run have to get away he's coming he's chasing us he'll kill us-_

It doesn't make him jump, this time, and he simply closes his eyes and tries to breathe, waiting for the irrational panic to stop clogging his throat and curling up his fingers. It's fine. He's fine. There's nothing to worry about.

But he can't stop thinking about it- the moment- Fred was on the ground, knocked down, and he looked up to see Hiro, and- and just for a second- he was so stunned, so hurt, and _you did this-_ and Hiro was standing above him, looking down, like- just like-

"Hey."

Hiro forces himself to turn around quietly, as close to calm as he can get, and for a moment, he can't see who's standing there. But then Go Go steps closer, and phases through one of the patches of dim light from the windows. "You okay?" she asks quietly.

He blinks. On second thought, he's not… totally sure this is Go Go. Earlier today, she was wearing her usual jacket-shorts combo, but now, she's got an oversized white sweater, baggy sweatpants, and- and he's pretty sure she's not wearing shoes. Her hair is spiked up in wild waves, and if he squints he can see dark circles under her eyes. "Yeah," he stutters, and his voice chooses the worst moment to break, making him sound even more pathetic. "Yeah, I'm- alright. What… what about you?"

"Hm?" She blinks, then points to her eyes. "Oh, this? Part of the costume. Fred insisted, remember?"

He just _knows_ his face is burning up. He already feels so skittish and childish, and the _last_ thing he wanted was for one of the gang to see him like this. Idly, part of him wonders if she can see how red his eyes are in the dim light. "What is it?"

"Seriously? Man, Fred would be so disappointed." Go Go raises her eyebrows, and holds up something small. "Sugar cubes? Still nothing? I walked around with a piece of cake, earlier, but this is easier to carry."

Blankly, he shrugs. "Sorry."

"You don't watch a lot of anime, do you?"

"N-not really." He buries his hands in his pockets. "I, uh, I didn't know you'd be here."

"Same." She cocks her head to one side. "…I thought you weren't coming?"

 _Yeah, me too,_ he thinks. "Yeah, I just- I wanted to…" He swallows. It's hard to say anything else. It's hard to think. A car lights up the road outside, and a beam of light travels across the room- lighting on the wall, flashing across the floor, and finally flowing past Go Go herself. She's looking at him like she doesn't trust him.

No, that's not it. Like she doesn't _believe_ him. Maybe there's no difference, at this point.

"So," she finally says, when he can't finish his thought. "Mind telling me why you just K.O.'ed the party host at his own rave? Because that wasn't exactly like you."

Freezing up again, he tries desperately to fight back the cold feeling of being trapped. That same question has been bouncing around his skull for the last ten minutes, and if he can't come up with a reason for himself, there's no _way_ he'll be able to tell someone else-

Go Go twitches her mouth- not a grin, but something close. "Not saying I don't approve. And I'm definitely not saying it wasn't funny."

Any other day, that would get a laugh, but he's too sick to his stomach. "You saw that?" he says weakly.

"Mm." The hum is laid-back, like it's no big deal. "Tried to get your attention. Lost you in the crowd, pretty quick. Honestly, I had no idea Fred knew _half_ this many people."

She's trying to get him to calm down, he realizes. Derailing with jokes. Keeping it light. And that's… wrong. Something about this is wrong. She shouldn't be trying to help him, encourage him, because- because he's not-

"Me neither," he mumbles, and abruptly turns towards the windows. His footsteps echo loudly, and _God_ does that sound weird and creepy in this huge empty room, but he tries to ignore it and focus on the faint light coming through the glass. They're frosted, so everything on the other side is blurry and warped, but he's pretty sure he can see streetlights across the lawn, and maybe houses beyond that, but when he squints to see better another car comes through and startles him with the headlights, and then it all goes dark again.

Go Go must have followed behind him; barefoot, she's a lot quieter.

For a moment, she only stands nearby, and the vast hall is silent again.

"…Is it Baymax?"

Of course it is. But it's not.

He hisses out "It's everything," before he can stop himself; and _damn it,_ that sounded so pitiful and emo and _stupid._ But that memory is bearing down on him again, and it hurts- he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be talking to her, any of them, they're- they're all-

"It's not like that," he backtracks. "It's not- It-" Hiro shakes his head, scowling. "It doesn't matter."

"Really." Her voice is flat, and when he turns, the gray light and the dark circles under her eyes make her look like a ghost. Or like a frozen mask. "It doesn't matter? You just about punched Fred in the face- and it doesn't matter?"

He punched Fred in the face. And Fred was knocked down, looking up at him-

Shivers are going down his back, but at the same time he can hardly move, and he's thinking about it, but he _can't_ think about it, but that moment, that memory, it's so clear so loud so bright it's _right there-_

"Hiro, come on." She steps closer, slips out of the light; one hand reaches out, to touch his shoulder. "You know you can talk to us, right?"

He pulls back.

Her eyes widen, hand still outstretched. "What the- Hiro, are you drunk?"

"No. No. God, I'm- no." His head is spinning. "Someone spilled on me."

"Okay, that I believe." Her hand goes back to her side, and he can barely see her anymore. "The rest? Not so much."

She pauses; blinking, waiting for him to say something, but he can't, because- because she's there, in the shadows, the dying light only slightly glinting off her eyes, so she looks like a phantom of the darkness, and she moves her hand again, alone in the pale light, stretching out, pointing, commanding…

"Seriously. Hiro. What the hell's going on?"

 _-they were all staring at him-_

 _-never felt this angry, this terrified-_

" _-never should have-"_

"Forget it," he chokes out, and the words hurt, and they sound sad and pitiful and whining. "Just- it's nothing." Turning, he tries to start towards the exit.

"Hey! Genius!" He flinches at that, hesitates, but he doesn't stop. "What exactly can't you talk about with your _team_? Or does that not mean anything, at the end of the day?"

It hurts so bad- why does it hurt so much-

"So spill, alright?" she demands. "I mean, do you _want_ to just keep scaring everyone for no reason?"

Scaring everyone?

He freezes. Go Go doesn't say anything else, but when he looks at her again, she's just- staring. There's a gray square of light in between them, and he can see the dark makeup around her eyes through the darkness. "What?" he rasps, sounding small and pitiful to his own ears. "What'd you say?"

"You heard me." She crosses her arms.

Scaring everyone.

The words sink through, and he can almost picture his thoughts moving slowly, lethargically, until he makes the connection. He's… making them worried. They want to help. Which begs the question-

Outside, a vehicle passes on the street, and the roar of the engine rumbles through the stillness in the hall.

"…Go, what exactly do you think I'm gonna do?"

He knows he sounds strange, dramatic, whispering, exhausted- probably only making things worse, given the 'you're worrying us' thing. But Go Go flinches, and- and suddenly it clicks in his mind. It's happening again. Just like Cass. And like T- like Baymax. All trying to help, trying to make his decisions for him, telling him he's not okay, and they know better, and _he's back in the attic, gray days passing by and not eating not sleeping not thinking and messages show up on the computer screen-_

" _Hey, Hiro-"_

"Just stop it," he spits out, towards Go Go or his own thoughts, he's not sure. But a new thought is pouring in, dark and creeping and pained, connecting the fragments until he can't think about anything else: Tadashi's friends were trying to contact him after the fire, and they went after him in the van to save him, and they agreed to the superhero plan, and they-

" _-just did, we NEVER s-"_

-followed him, believed in him, and now they're worried again, trying to see if he needs help…

He blinks, and sees Go Go looking at him in concern. This college student, years older than him, demanding that he tell her what's going on, when- when he's only known her for less than a month. He never thought to question it.

And maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's the long days and restless nights, maybe it's the dead-end research and the thoughts going in circles and the memories he can't get rid of, but… a voice in the back of his mind is whispering that there's a very specific reason she wants to help him. That all four of them want to 'help'.

It's him.

Because everything always comes back to _him._

This time, he doesn't stop when she calls his name. He doesn't listen, really. She's probably trying to get him to wait, and she's probably asking him something again, but he doesn't care anymore. He's going to get the tram, and get home, like he should have done hours ago.

And tomorrow, he'll keep working.

The simmering anger only grows as he walks, and pretty soon he's making his way to the front of the mansion. More people. More costumes. More slurring, and drunk laughter, and people practically falling against him as he's just trying to find the foyer so he can leave. Some jock bumps against his shoulder as they're passing through a smaller hallway; Hiro reflexively snaps out a "Watch it", and the guy's either so surprised or so drunk that he doesn't even respond, only shrugging and walking away.

It's stupid. This is all idiotic. And when he's out the doors, and down the grand steps, and finally at the tram stop, waiting for the night rotation to show up- he checks his phone more than once, forgetting that it's out of battery each time- he has another stupid, unhelpful thought.

He used to _love_ Halloween.

And another thought, faster than he can stop it: well, obviously, because this is the first Halloween without-

…

There's no one else on the tram.

…

The city's getting colder, he notices dimly. There's a chill in the breeze that wasn't there a week ago.

…

Then, like he's watching it happen to somebody else, he's stepping down onto the sidewalk, and taking the short walk to the right street, and the café's right there, and now… he'll have to either sneak in quietly, or have a really, _really_ good story ready.

No, wait. His clothes probably still stink. If Cass wakes up, he won't have a chance.

But at the same time, he can't bring himself to care.

The back door swings shut, and he's listening for any sound from the top of the stairs, from the entryway leading up to the second floor, where-

Where-

Where Cass Hamada is at war with herself, pacing in the living room and flipping back and forth between _it's probably fine, it's nothing to overreact about_ and _his phone's not answering, and he didn't say anything about being gone tonight, and he could be hurt or lost or anything else._ She's left three messages already, and every time she's tempted to go back to her phone to leave another, she steels herself and repeats that it's okay, he's probably fine, he's forgotten to keep his phone charged in the past.

It's not abnormal for him to stay late at the school, but usually he's already back before the café closes, in time for a late dinner. She's already had time to close up, and finish the cleaning for tomorrow morning, _and_ finish up the receipts. And he's still not back. She swears, if this is just a trick to get out of doing chores, she's going to-

The back door finally opens, and she about has a heart attack.

"Hiro!" Rushing over from the kitchen, she makes it to the top of the landing stairs before he does. "Hiro, where on earth _were_ you?"

He has his backpack slung over one shoulder, and he only briefly looks up from the steps to meet her eyes- then he looks away again, shrugging. "Just… with friends. We wanted to hang out after classes. Sorry, uh, about my phone. I just-"

"You could have used one of theirs," she says immediately, fighting to keep the panic and relief from making her voice louder than it needs to be. "Hiro, I need to be able to know where you are. Or- or at least I need to be able to call you!"

"M'sorry," he mumbles again, trying to make his way past her.

"Hiro, _wait._ You- _"_

She catches his arm-

-and freezes instantly, because there are _several_ things wrong with this picture. First and foremost: "Why _exactly_ do you smell like alcohol?" she demands. This is it, isn't it? This is the end. Every paranoid worry that's ever crossed her mind, every _what if I'm not ready to raise kids_ thought, every panic that her sweet little baby could potentially become a delinquent who parties at- at _raves_ or _clubs_ or wherever kids go these days, and end up dealing drugs or smuggling money or something and get abducted by a gang or _good grief, the mob_ , all because she didn't take the right steps in giving him discipline- or are you supposed to discipline _less_ to help your kids grow, she doesn't know, the parenting books are infuriatingly contradictory on that point-

"It's not me," he says, head lowered, cheeks pink with embarrassment, not looking at her. "A drink spilled on me, so it's all over my clothes."

Oh. Well then.

She lets go of his shoulder, then frowns and puts her hand right back. Is that an excuse? Is that a common, really silly lie that teenagers use, and she should be able to see through right away? She doesn't know! It's not like she had to deal with this kind of thing before!

…Actually, now that she thinks about it, she's pretty sure she remembers her brother using that exact excuse back in the day. And their father instantly shutting down that point- because if you're too young to drink, you certainly shouldn't be at a party with alcohol anyway, much less a _bar_ or any other place where that could even _happen-_ and now she's right back to being angry and worried.

"So," she says, "Do you mind telling me where you were that was _serving_ drinks?"

"It's not-" He shakes his head, and pulls away from her, before hefting his backpack so it's not slipping. "It's not a big deal. I was at Fred's, and some guy brought booze- _for himself_ ," he adds quickly when Cass's eyes go wide- "And I don't know if you've noticed, but jocks aren't the most graceful and careful people to begin with, so once Gorilla Man was already buzzed, he wasn't exactly the pinnacle of hand-eye coordination."

…Okay. That random, oddly specific insult actually _does_ strengthen his case that he hasn't been drinking, because he spits the words out without any hesitation or slur in his voice. In the moment it takes Cass to process that, Hiro scowls again and takes another step through the landing, clearly meaning to cut the conversation short and head up the stairs. "Hiro, _wait._ I'm-"

"It doesn't matter," he hisses, and- yeah, that's a tone she hasn't heard him use in a long time. "It's _fine_ , okay, it's not like I _drank_ any."

"That's not the point! Look, I- you know I like your friends, and I think they're a good influence." And he stiffens at that, glaring, like that hurt him somehow- maybe she said the exact wrong thing- "But that doesn't mean you can just… run around to whatever parties you want! Without telling me you'll be out this late, and- and not telling me where you'll be, and _not having your phone!"_

"I had my phone!" he says, eyes dark as he stands in the half-shadow from the faint light above the stairway. "It just- it ran out of power! I messed up, alright? It was a mistake!"

"Mistake? _Mistake?_ " She's panicking, because there's no time to think. There's no time to sit down and figure out the right thing to say, the right parenting decision, because she's not a parent and she doesn't know what she's doing and there's no _time-_ "Hiro, you can't keep doing this! You can't just- do whatever you want, then say you're sorry and think everything will be fine! You need to-"

" _Just stop it!"_

He doesn't yell it, but there's a harsh rasp in the words- Cass takes a step back without meaning to. "Stop telling me what I can and can't do, alright? Just- just-" He's _shaking_ now, and he can't even look at her, instead staring down at the floor. "I'm sorry I can't perfectly follow every stupid rule, and I'm sorry I can't be _perfect_ and never screw up-"

She forces herself to keep talking, and to not waver at all- even though this is the last thing she wants to be doing right now. "It's not about the rules. Hiro, I-" She has to stay firm, has to stay strong, has to help him realize- "I don't care about that. Do you understand how _awful_ I felt, when it was getting this late, and I couldn't call you? I didn't know where you were, or if you were safe, and there was _nothing I could do._ I was terrified that you might be hurt somewhere, or- or lost, or-"

Some sick, paranoid part of her mind cuts in- _or one of those heroes, risking death and keeping secrets-_

But she shuts it down, and finishes speaking before her shaking voice gets the best of her. "And I don't _ever_ want to worry that I might not see you again!"

-she pictures him looking at her, shocked and dismayed, and bowing his head and saying _I'm sorry, I didn't think of it like that, I'll- I won't do it again,_ and they actually come to some common ground and they don't keep _scaring_ each other, and things get better and they're fine and she doesn't lay awake so many nights anymore-

"You don't _have_ to," he seethes, like nothing she just said left any kind of impact. "I keep telling you, I'm fine! Okay? I'll be alright! So you don't have to worry all the time, and- and freak out whenever I don't get everything exactly right!"

"Stop _saying_ that. You're- you're not-" Her head is spinning, and the words are getting jumbled together as she tries to piece them apart. "Please, just stop-"

"Yeah! Fine!" Hiro says immediately, raising his hands with a sarcastic 'surrender' motion. "Great! Can I go to bed now? Can I go get some sleep?" The last part is angry, scathing, as if he's saying _you know, like you keep telling me I have to do?_

"No, it's not- Hiro, you-" She can feel it, all the fear and sadness and anxiety, still there, but also slowly turning red-hot and angry, right or wrong- "Don't you understand what you're doing? What could happen to you? You're so _smart,_ so-" There's a darkness, a weight, a blistering pain in her heart, and she says through gritted teeth- without thinking- just slips out-

"So why can't you- why can't you just-"

 _Just-_

The words die. Cass freezes. She can feel that her face has gone pale. She's not sure exactly what she was going to say next. Maybe 'why can't you just understand?' or 'why can't you just listen?' Or- or maybe something else-

But Hiro is silent. He's facing her from the first step, and the burnt-out light in the living room is across from him, so part of his face is darker than the rest as he glares at her. "What?" he says quietly,

"I-I-" She can't say anything. It's… it's pressing on her, like stones, slowly driving her down until she can't stand.

Hiro's expression changes ever so slightly. Instead of simmering resentment, now he's- he's looking at her with wider eyes, a hint of shock and fury and something much, much more pained than before. "What?" he demands, and she's pretty sure his hands are shaking. "What were you gonna say?"

She won't. She can't. She was- she was going to- she can't even _think_ about it-

"Why can't I…" He closes his eyes, but he's still trembling, and Cass realizes this is the angriest she's ever seen him. "Why can't I just be more like him, right?"

There it is. Her breath catches. They- neither one of them, they don't bring him up like this. They _never_ use him for arguments, or to make a point, or anything else. "That was it, right?" he rasps, and his hands go up and press against his face, covering his eyes. "You want me to- to stop screwing up all the time, and try to be just like him, because he's the perfect kid, perfect student, perfect everything, and-"

"Hiro- I don't-"

"It'd be better if I was like him, if I didn't get it _wrong_ all the time, if I didn't keep making everything worse- no matter how hard I try-" His hands pull away, and red, sullen eyes lock onto her.

"It should have been me, right?"

She doesn't know what he means by that, for a moment. Then the words connect, and she hears what he's really saying, and her heart shatters- because she didn't know she could hurt this much for someone- _how long has he been thinking that-_

"…Oh my God," she whispers, and she wants to say more, so much more, but she can't. "You- you're not-"

"That's what you wanted, right?" he says, and his eyes are blazing, like- like he's ready to hit her, or turn and run, or like he's terrified of what he just said but he can't take it back. "I mean, if it had to be _somebody_ , then at least it should have been the one who _deserved_ it more, right? Right?" It's like he can't even see her, like he's arguing with someone else- because Cass would never think that, but maybe Hiro _would-_ "And it couldn't be him, obviously, because he was so fucking PERFECT, wasn't he, and everything would be _just fine_ if it had been me instead-"

She screams.

For a moment, she loses track of- of everything. She doesn't black out, but Hiro's words and the room around them and the boiling, stabbing _something_ in her mind all fly together and apart again like a supernova, and she's- screaming, without words, and she's- she-

The world comes back. The scream echoes, and fades- she's standing two steps closer to Hiro, and he jumps back, a look of pure shock on his face- and he trips over the steps behind him, awkwardly falling onto his side.

Her arm is raised in the air.

…

Oh, n- no. No. No, it can't- she wasn't-

…

God, no. Please.

…

Was- was she about to- did she almost-

…

Some far-off, disconnected part of her- the part that isn't frozen in horror- wonders if it's better that her hand isn't closed into a fist. Would a slap be more forgivable, or… worse?

…

There's ice in her lungs, in her arm, cutting and crushing her, and she can't speak. _I'm so sorry,_ or _Oh my God, Hiro, please- I didn't mean to,_ or anything else- she's never yelled at him like that, and she's certainly never tried to- almost-

For awful, painful, slow seconds, he just… stares at her. She can't say it. The words aren't there.

Then, finally, other words are.

"…Don't you dare say something like that, ever again," she whispers.

Hiro doesn't say anything.

 _It's almost funny ha ha always trying to do the right thing always wondered what a real parent would do_

 _Oh look at me I'm just doing my best to raise two crazy teenagers ha ha_

Cass wonders if she's losing her mind. Hiro's face has gone pale, and he shakily pushes himself up until he's standing. Then, he limps his way up the stairs to the attic.

She doesn't watch him leave. Instead, she turns- 'numb' doesn't seem like it begins to cover it- and takes steps, one at a time, moving down the hallway towards the bedroom and the bathroom, and… the house is quiet, now, just step-step-step echoing off the walls around her, soft and steady, like nothing happened. Like it was all a nightmare, and Hiro's been up in his room sleeping, and she- she only needed to grab some water, and now she's going to try to get back to sleep, and tomorrow, everything will be fine.

Ha. There's that word again.

She's sitting on the edge of the bed, not entirely remembering the walk to get in here- and all the memories are still there, but muted, like the accompanying shock and revulsion at what she said- what _Hiro_ said- aren't going to hit her until later. For now, there's only a hollow ache, as if something vital is missing. Like it's been gone for months, and she's only just now admitting that she needed it all along.

She's… empty.

She's failing.

And even though she's so, _so_ tired, she doesn't want to close her eyes, because whenever she does, she sees the way Hiro looked- staring up at her, eyes wide, shocked, all the color gone from his face- and he's-

He-

He stumbles into the attic, almost falling on the last step; standing straighter, he tenses and closes his eyes until the buzz of anger and tense energy stops crackling in his mind.

It doesn't stop.

…He would hate this.

Hiro finally looks up, blinking, moving to the side of the room- numb, fluttering, livid and somehow lethargic, a million feelings that don't make sense together- like he's not the one moving his feet, or his arms, or crafting the thoughts in his head. Like he's just watching.

He'd _hate_ this.

The room's still dark- he doesn't bother turning on the light, so when he takes another step, his foot collides with the bedpost, and he stumbles to the ground, twisting and ending up on one knee. Tears spring to his eyes from the sudden pain, but he closes his eyes tightly.

"Just stop," he hisses out, and he doesn't know why, or who he's saying it to. "Stop it."

 _He'd hate this._

Why'd she have to try to… _control_ him like that? Why is it no matter where he is or what he's doing, she's always worried that he needs someone watching over his shoulder, telling him what to do next? Just like Tadashi used to. He presses his hands against his face, putting pressure on the area around his eyes-

It's nothing but hate, strong and burning and sick, and the worst part is- he imagines Tadashi, and Cass, and… out of the three of them, he wonders who he hates the most.

…Hah. It's not even close, really.

…

He'd be so disappointed.

"Just _stop_ ," he chokes out, but it doesn't matter because _he's the only one up here._

He doesn't have the energy to stand- and it hurts too much, anyway, so he just curls up on himself and pulls his foot closer. It still hurts. "I don't care," he says, and it's nonsense, he knows it is- "I don't care, it doesn't matter, I don't _care_ ," and it's louder than he meant it to be, but the sound fades quickly, and soon he can only hear his own hastened breathing, only sees the dim outline of the walls in the faint light, only feels the floorboards under him. He freezes for a moment, then leans back so he's pushing up against the foot of the bed.

He's never seen her look like that before. And- he's never thought about- or, he's never admitted that- never said the words out loud, because as long as they're just thoughts he can ignore them, but now they're real with sound and anger and _it- should- have- been- me-_

There's a memory, playing in his mind over and over, but he can't think about it. He can't.

There aren't any more tears. It was only because of hitting his foot, after all. Hiro closes his eyes and breathes out, and tries to think about nothing.

" _-it, Baymax! D-"_

Breathe in.

" _-you ever say something like that again-"_

Breathe out.

" _-what would Mom and Dad s-"_

Breathe in.

 _Fred, staring up at him from the ground, neon lights reflecting bright and golden in his eyes, blood streaming from where he hit the ground, across his pale face in crooked lines, red lines yellow eyes white face staring staring STARING-_

…

He doesn't sleep for hours.

…

…

…

But when he finally does, the dreams are-

They-

They're-

The dreams are wild, and fast, and chill her down to the bone- orange lights pouring out skyward from the building, and sirens, and smoke, and she can see the red and blue of the police lights in Hiro's eyes-

And suddenly it's not a fire, but a car crash, and she- she gets a call, and she's racing as fast as she can, and it's not enough-

She's not enough-

Awake. Dark. Breathing. Quiet. Numbers, bright red- 4:04 AM. Tired. Tense.

Cass shudders, and rolls over, but the unsettling feeling of pins and needles keeps creeping over the skin on her arms, and she's caught in some bizarre kind of half-lucidity; too unfocused to properly concentrate, but too frazzled to start to drift off. So the not-dreams play out while her eyes are still open, thought trails that go nowhere and everywhere all at once, until the awful, awful things Hiro yelled fly through her memory for the hundredth time and she pushes it all away and sits up in her bed.

She never had any delusions that raising kids would be easy.

But at least, she used to think that she'd get better at it over time. That… maybe with experience would come wisdom, and eventually she'd be a seasoned pro, handling tough decisions with aplomb, proudly watching her nephews grow up and change the world. She never imagined every decision, every tough conversation, every biting and bitter shouting match would leave her _less_ sure of herself. Handling Tadashi's teenage 'rebel' phase had been difficult enough, and a particularly heated argument about taking the car out on a Friday night had ended with some choice words on both sides.

Nothing like this, though.

She softly pads down the hall, towards the bathroom, and stops in front of the sink without turning the light on. Because of the tiny nightlight by the mirror, she can just barely see her own face, and the mostly-shadowed room around her. She stares at herself while pouring a cup of water.

Then, of course, there was Hiro's high school debacle. It started with difficulty, and only got more complicated- the age difference between him and his peers had shoved him into a corner, and made him feel like the only way out was to lower his shoulders and start swinging. At least, that was the metaphor the guidance counselor used, when he told her Hiro had been suspended for fighting. For the third time in his sophomore year.

So Hiro's scowling face, and a black eye, and a mumbled "Just bullies, it's not a big deal, don't worry about it," brought out something in her that made her feel like an avenging angel of death, and of _course_ she marched down to the high school ready to give the staff a piece of her mind, because how could they let this kind of thing happen to the youngest and most isolated, lonely kid at their school- only to learn that not only had Hiro called the 'bully' in question a 'colossal idiot', but he'd also thrown the first punch, once the taunting and shouting got violent.

The strangest case was when Hiro- her ten-year-old, precious, intelligent, arrogant, confused, angry little guy- broke down crying one evening, saying "Why isn't it working, I made it _perfect_ ," and when she asked what he meant by that, he pulled papers out of his backpack showing the algorithm he'd worked on, predicting which friends he should make to minimize the bullying.

…What was she supposed to do with something like that?

Cass sets the cup back down on the sink, realizing she wasn't that thirsty in the first place, and splashes some of the water into her face instead. Dimly, she remembers that that's the cliché thing to do when you're trying to wake up, not get back to sleep- but honestly, at this point, she doesn't really care. Stepping back into the hallway, she hesitates, glancing towards the living room.

Where, if she turned around that corner, she'd be right at the base of the steps leading to the attic.

…

Tadashi was _so_ good with him, though. Every time Cass felt like she was at her wit's end, every time she thought there was nothing else she could do to help him, Tadashi somehow found a way. She'll never forget the night she heard muffled whispering and crying, and when she was halfway up the stairs to make sure everything was alright, stopped because Tadashi was quietly sharing a story with his brother, from when he'd had trouble in his freshman year of high school. How the bullies had been there, too, and how it had been really tough to make friends.

And she had turned around without letting them know she heard, because it seemed so personal, and- and because she had _never_ sat him down and tried to share her own experiences relating to what he was going through, since she'd been too focused on trying to figure out the right advice or the perfect parenting decision, and she felt so ashamed to think that Tadashi was helping Hiro so, so much more than she ever could, both at school and away from it.

Her breath catches in her throat, and she shuts her eyes tight- before opening them again, and turning back to the bedroom.

The night of the arrest had been… bizarre. "Hanging out at the library," he'd said. "I'll take the tram home before Beat Poetry night's over," he'd said. Honestly, she didn't even catch _Tadashi_ leaving; he'd been eating cinnamon rolls with that Ethel girl in the back of the café all the way through Mrs. Mitsuha's weirdly abstract piece comparing comets and… soulmates? Or something? And then he must have suddenly decided that his Hiro-senses were tingling, because he was just _gone._ And then a phone call, and her heart had jumped into her throat when a gruff policeman asked for Cass Hamada.

They were fine, of course. Well… medically, anyway.

She shakes that memory away, trying her best not to focus on it too much. There was nothing good to be gained from reliving past mistakes over and over.

Because that's what they were, really. Mistakes. Missed opportunities. The feeling sneaks up on her, sometimes, and she doesn't even realize she's thinking it: she could have done so much better. She _should_ have.

She's not getting better at this pseudo-parenting business. In fact, she seems to be getting worse.

The thought is vile, and nauseous, and it sticks in her stomach and makes her head hurt, but she can't get rid of it. Because spats with Tadashi were nothing. Hiro having a hard time in high school was _nothing._ Even the night of the arrest- at the time, seeming like the end of the world- she'd give anything to say that was the lowest, most painful night of her life.

None of that was anything, compared to the night of the Showcase.

Her throat tightens.

Cass gets back in bed, but stares up at the ceiling and _knows_ that she won't be sleeping any time soon- because it was nothing compared to the showcase, or Hiro's eyes, or walking up to the attic with a plate of food and finding another untouched, uneaten plate, or asking him questions and getting no response, or-

Or this.

After every mistake, it all feels worse. She _is_ … worse.

…God, there have been an awful lot of mistakes.

And when she finally does slip into a doze, for a few fitful hours before the coming morning, that's the lone idea that still dances in the strange half-dreams.

 _Mistake._

…

…

…

…

…

 _-God, I have no idea what I'm doing, here. This is definitely a mistake. I'm probably just making things worse.-_

 _-But that's nothing new, I guess.-_

…

…

…

…

…

…

November rolls in, slow and quiet and dark, and uncertainty comes with it.

It's been a rough day. He tells himself he needs some air, needs some time to himself, needs to take some time to clear his head. He's not particularly paying attention to where he's going.

That, too, is what he tells himself, when he finds a familiar tram station, and rides for exactly seven and a half minutes, stepping off onto a quiet street not far from the docks. And when he keeps walking, down streets and then cramped lanes and eventually alleys, a route he has memorized, he doesn't bother wondering if he came here on purpose or not.

It looks different, in the afternoon light. Empty. Silent. He tilts his head to one side, and he can picture Yama, sitting _right there_ \- and the faint outline of the fight circle is still visible, right in the center of the alcove. The best spots to actually see the fighting are near the crates along the wall, but it's a little _too_ close, sometimes, and a few of the more… excitable players have started fistfights in the past. Of course, if you know the scene, you know the best escape routes, starting with the abandoned building on _that_ side, and if anyone's trying to follow you, your best bet is to scamper down _those_ walls…

He knows this game awfully well.

He doesn't step into the open space, only leaning against the wall. It hasn't been the most popular location since the police raid, obviously, but someone will probably use it again once the heat dies down- hell, for all he knows, they could still be using it.

Maybe even this weekend.

A shiver hits him, and he tries to ignore the twinge of nausea in his stomach. Abruptly, he turns and retraces his steps the way he came. Cass will wonder where he disappeared to for an extra hour, but whatever.

…It's been _so long._

But he can still remember what it felt like, all eyes on him as he nervously dropped a crumpled handful of bills in the plate- and the controlled, agonizing patience of waiting to play his hand, pretending to be a scared newbie who was in over his head, drawing it out until he _knew_ Yama was hooked, just like he scammed the other big names- Gears, and Tetsuo, and Lil' Slugger, and Black Eye, and Shinsou, and Yoshido's brother, and a dozen more.

Walking into the lions' den, gambling with the devil, and flying back out by the skin of his teeth. Even now, it makes him shiver, the phantom-adrenaline buzzing in his brain, and his fingers clench up against his hands, and he remembers- being scared, absolutely _terrified,_ because no matter how confident he was, he was also smart enough to know this could get him killed in a heartbeat, but it was so much _fun_ , and he didn't want to stop, and over time the fear changed into energy, lightning in his bones and in his fingers, tricking cash away from back-alley criminals purely because _he was smarter than them._

Abruptly, he pushes off the wall and turns back the way he came.

At the stop, he only has to wait a minute before the tram is back. It's mostly empty, this time. All the same, he stands and holds onto the rail overhead, instead of sitting down. Gradually, the scenery beyond the window picks up speed.

Lightning. That was a good way to picture it. No, not exactly- more like sparks, man-made and popping out of wires and circuit boards, dangerous and powerful and bringing machines to life. _That's_ what he felt like, weaving and dodging through the alleys and past the thugs who could have torn him limb from limb- and he _knew_ they could, but honestly, that made it so much more extreme, to risk it all without looking back and come away laughing, because- because at the end of the day-

The tram passes through a tunnel, and the bright view of the city outside vanishes. Hiro is left staring at his own reflection.

…because at the end of the day, he had a reliable getaway driver.

The nausea hits him again, and he closes his eyes against the sudden memory. He swore, twice over- once after Tadashi showed him the lab, and once again after the funeral, the first night he felt that same pull to sneak away and hop on the tram with a robot and a stack of bills in the pockets of his sweatshirt. He wouldn't go back. Ever. And that was a promise he intended to keep, but- but then why is he here _now?_

Light hits his vision, even before he opens his eyes- and when he does, the tram's in the open air again, and he can see the slope of one of the biggest avenues in the city, going up the hill and through the commons not too far from the café. For a moment, he simply watches. He thought he'd catch sight of the blimps, again, but from this angle, they're replaced by the streamers and lanterns- dark, now, but they'll be flaring with vibrant colors by sunset- hanging from the rooftops and signaling the nearing Fall Festival. The last time he went, he'd been busy pretending he didn't think it was cool anymore, while Tadashi made him try three different varieties of deep-fried pastries in the span of an hour (they both agreed that none of them held a candle to Aunt Cass's cooking), and Aunt Cass had surprised both of them by proving to be the most daring thrill-ride-junkie of the three, eagerly dragging them from the ferris wheel to the spinning one where the floor dropped out to the crazy tower-plunge thing that made Hiro throw up but he still demanded that they go on it again-

His mind goes in three directions at once, even as he purposefully tilts his head down so he can't look at the decorations anymore.

One- he's not thinking about the festival, he's _not_ thinking about the food, or the rides, or Tadashi betting him five dollars he couldn't win the ring toss game, or the look on his face when Hiro won, or the girl who walked past them and winked at Tadashi, and said "Good to see you again, Hamada," and Tadashi's cheeks went bright red and he kept saying _Shut up, Hiro, it's not funny,_ and Hiro couldn't stop laughing and asking him for the details, because apparently _Lover-boy is keeping a few secrets,_ and Tadashi yanked Hiro's hood over his face so he couldn't see, and it basically turned into a full-on wrestling match in the middle of the boardwalk and Hiro had never had so much fun in his whole life.

Two- the nausea is _still there, it's really not going away_ , and he slowly sinks to one of the seats while wincing. Because the memory of the fights is strong, so vivid he can almost picture the announcer's face, grinning at the roaring crowd while introducing the fighters- and that tension, that fear and excitement and peril and thrill, it's all coalescing until he's not just remembering it, he's _feeling_ it again, and it feels like- feels too much like-

Three- the ride at the festival, the tower-drop thing, when he was waiting and laughing nervously with his brother and he turned to make a joke about terminal velocity or something and then they _fell-_ they dropped out of the sky- just like- just like when-

The bile almost comes up right then, and he grits his teeth and leans over, arms pulled around his middle as he tries not to hurl. Because he can still feel it, flying, screaming over the city impossibly fast, _falling out of the sky_ , blurring together with everything else-

That first moment, when he saw the mask, and Yokai's arm raised and pointed at him- and the _swarm_ started moving, chattering, building, reaching towards him when _he was the one who built them-_

The van chase, faster than he'd ever moved, wind and adrenaline pricking his skin with every passing second and trying not to think about how, statistically, he was most likely to die in a car crash, and Go Go wasn't blinking and Fred was screaming and he couldn't see Baymax's face-

The portal, colors swirling and shifting and cold, drifting through nothing and wondering if they'd ever get back out or if it would be like this forever _is that what Abigail felt-_

A giant block of cinder and concrete, closer and closer, about to crush them, and all he could dimly think was that _he was about to die-_

Tadashi.

And one other memory, that he's not going to think about- looking down at- pointing at-

- _only seeing red-_

Shit. No. This is bad. It's not just his stomach, or the way his head hurts so much but he's not sure if it's real pain or if it's just in his mind, it's- it's all of it, mixing together and getting stronger until he can hardly _think_ because it's so big and dark and cold and _Baymax still isn't here_. It's the same mess that keeps his eyes open, late at night, buzzing and sparking in his brain so loud so bright so _painful_ that there's nothing else he can do except keep working.

But. Problem is, if you- if you aren't getting enough rest, then…

Hiro barks out a laugh, but it makes his stomach pitch and spasm, and he feels like his throat is on fire- and it's just dry heaves, but it FEELS like he's coughing up blood or bile or anything else.

…then exhaustion and lack of sleep will weaken your immune system. And Hiro knows this, because he's a genius, and his best friend is a nursing robot with an extensive knowledge of medical problems. Ha. Ha ha.

It's funny.

It passes eventually, and he's left bent over at the waist, one hand propping up his forehead and the other arm curled in front of his stomach- like _that's_ going to help, he thinks bitterly. He breathes as deeply as he can, until the godawful sickly-sweet-dry-burning taste is mostly gone, and he doesn't feel like he's about to pass out.

…

A few cars down, there's a woman watching him with a nervous expression. He didn't notice her before now.

Eventually, he raises a feeble hand. "A'right," he rasps, then clears his throat and tries again. "M'fine. Sorry."

Her eyebrows are still raised, but she turns back to her phone after a moment.

For some reason, he keeps looking at her, just for a few seconds. Then, he blinks and turns his gaze to the ground again.

…God, he's an absolute mess.

There's cold sweat on his forehead, slowly dripping down his face, and he tries to wipe as much away with his sleeve as he can.

He breathes. Keeping his eyes closed for too long only makes the dizziness worse, but watching the buildings move past seems to have the same problem, so he's stuck awkwardly looking and not-looking every couple seconds, and his head hurts and his stomach hurts and he wants nothing more than to just… stop. Just push everything away, and focus on something else. Pretend it's fine.

It won't work. But nothing _will_ , so who cares, right?

Hiro concentrates, and very deliberately doesn't think about _any_ of that, mentally going through his plan from here on out. Actually structuring the physical pieces of the frame, is… well, even more complicated than he thought. It's nothing like 3-d printing armor plates, and he has to visualize exactly how the material will stretch and move and operate under different circumstances, and how to combine that with Tadashi's notes, and how to fudge the rest with his best guess, because he doesn't actually _have_ all of Tadashi's notes, particularly the numbered test videos that are pretty much gone forever because the only goddamn copy is in Baymax's chip itself, and he can't get to it without risking the erasure of literally everything he's trying to save.

Speaking of the chip- he's barely even started the work on that volatile monstrosity.

The tram rattles slightly. Hiro doesn't look up. The first supply of vinyl is waiting at an outlet store a half hour away. It won't be enough- but he still doesn't have the money to buy a bigger order. So at least he has a starting point, because that will provide him with a first rough 'test' of structuring Baymax's frame.

But it's hard to avoid thinking that that's hardly the first priority right now, because his work on the chip has been nonexistent at best and _potentially catastrophic_ at worst- it's one thing to envision terms like 'irreparable circuit damage', and another to realize that if he isn't surgically precise with the work, he will literally destroy parts of Baymax's personality.

…Hah. 'destroy parts of Baymax's personality' was a poor choice of words, since he was the one who tried to-

He grits his teeth, and doesn't think about it. A mistake, it turns out, since the next minuscule bump the tram hits sends a jolt of pain through his molars.

But it won't be impossible. The actuators aren't as out of reach as he thought they might be; with some more research, he'll be close to a working prototype. It won't be as good as Tadashi's, but it won't have to be- he just needs an approximation so he can see how the power source connects, and if he has to modify that in any way.

And the progress on the translator program is encouraging, too. It isn't much; just a series of inputs and outputs, which would hopefully let him communicate with Baymax before perfectly reconstructing the body. Ideally, if he can use the lab to jerry-rig some kind of adaptor to hold the chip, and connect the whole thing to anything with a keyboard and a screen… But he's getting ahead of himself. He doesn't _dare_ try messing with the chip at all, until he's sure he won't cause more damage.

Hiro suddenly realizes he's been mumbling to himself, when he notices that the woman from earlier is giving him a look like he just dropped in from the skylight. His face goes red awfully quickly, and he stammers out another apology- but she turns back to her phone, and the tram keeps moving.

His eyes wander over the buildings outside, homes and businesses and government buildings passing by in an instant. The whole city, shifting and turning right in front of him.

He'll have to leave off work on the chip itself, for now. Until he can be more sure. But Baymax's physical construction- that, he can do. The skeleton's not done yet, but he's making progress. Finally. The only other problem is money, still, and it's not like he has any free time to pick up a job or- hell, he's fourteen, so most of the city wouldn't let him work anyway-

The buildings pass by, but he can see the shadows and the alleys in between, too.

…Of course, there's _one_ way he knows to make cash in a hurry.

The thought doesn't scare him, or make him excited and anticipatory like it used to. It just makes him feel sick, again. He tries to ignore it, because he _swore,_ and there's no way he'd- he would never- not- he's spinning through the same thoughts again, almost like he's not in control of them, and the entire debate goes back and forth until it lands in the exact same place as before.

If he swore he wouldn't fight again, why is he here?

The question burns at him, until he deliberately answers it, in his mind: he's going home. That's why he's here.

This was a waste of time.

His phone buzzes, jolting him out of his thoughts. He stares down at a text from Honey, and abruptly realizes that he hasn't talked to the gang since Halloween. And… now, he's on less-than-great terms with Go Go and Fred, at least, and probably Wasabi, too- though, he thinks, he could insult Honey Lemon to her face and she'd likely still ask him if he's doing alright.

She'd lecture him until his head spun, but she wouldn't hold a grudge.

…None of them would.

Even so, Hiro doesn't answer. The phone slips back in his pocket. The buildings flash past.

He's tired.

…

…

…

…

…

…

This time, Cass doesn't say anything.

She doesn't cry, or break down in impossible questions that the gravestone can't answer, or reminisce over the good times or dream about getting to talk to him again. She only stands in silence, looking at the name on the stone until the setting sun makes her shield her eyes.

She wants to, of course. She wants to cry, and yell, and beat her fists against the granite as if that will somehow make things better, as if it's this grave's fault, as if it can somehow bring him back or help her sleep or take back everything Hiro said or- or- or let her take his place-

Most of all, though, Cass wants to ask him what she's supposed to do about Hiro. What she _can_ do, when he slinks around the house with a look like a cornered animal, when just seeing him is enough to bring her to tears, but she doesn't know if she's crying from fear or sadness or anger towards him, anger towards her nephew who's hurting just as much as she is _but sometimes she doesn't care about that and she's so angry she doesn't know what she might do_ , which only makes her more afraid.

 _The answer's simple, isn't it, she should just talk to him, tell him he doesn't have to feel that way, tell him she loves him and she would never in a million lifetimes wish that he was dead for any reason_

 _Tell him she's never once thought that it would be better, if he'd died instead_

 _Tell him_

 _Even if it's not true_

And if Tadashi was here, she could _ask_ him, and he could help- it would be an awful burden to put on him, unfair and unreasonable and selfish of her to even ask, but he would know what to do and Hiro might actually _listen_ to him, and maybe they- wouldn't be so broken- maybe they'd be better-

…

She can't say any of these things. So she simply keeps the sun out of her eyes, and lets the faint breeze chill her until she's shivering.

"…Miss Hamada?"

If she wasn't so lost in her own world, she might have jumped. As is, she doesn't realize the tentative voice is directed at her until she blinks, and turns, to see… one of Tadashi's friends. The girl with the cheery smile, and the blonde hair, and… to be completely honest, Cass hasn't talked to her in a long time. Or… ever? And she doesn't actually think she can recall her name.

"H-hello," she finally says. It takes a moment to move out of the world of memory and thought, and into the world where there's another person patiently waiting for her to say something. Cass blinks, and clears her throat. "Can I help you?" is what eventually comes out of her mouth, and she's instantly aware of how silly it sounds.

The girl seems to take it a different way, though. "I'm sorry," she says hesitantly, eyes darting back to the path. "I'll- I'll leave you alone- sorry." Still mumbling, she turns.

"That's alright," Cass says. "I didn't mean… well, I wasn't…" She's already flustered from the surprise of seeing someone else here, and trying to piece together her thoughts isn't going terribly well.

The girl has turned back- Honey Lemon, _that_ was it; why do these children have such strange names for each other- "You're sure?" she says with a concerned, eyebrows-raised frown. "Because I can-"

Cass nods, and attempts a reassuring smile- though she can't imagine how it looks on her tired face. Ducking her head, the girl approaches again, eventually standing beside her. Her hesitant look and quiet movements are a far cry from the bright, loud figure Cass is used to seeing around the café.

She looks like she's about to ask something, but stops and looks ahead, towards the stone.

The wind is still bracing. Cass, too, turns to face forward.

…

At first, she had a tinge of worry, over seeing one of Tadashi's friends. But… maybe there's nothing to say.

She's grateful for the jacket, this time, as the sun begins to slip behind thin clouds near the horizon. In fact, rolling gray billows are coming in from the west, and gradually creeping over more and more of the sky above her.

…

No, there _is_ more she wishes she could say. But- not now. She can't.

Then the girl next to her takes in a breath. "I… I've only come here twice." It rings out, even though she said it like she was admitting a quiet secret. "Since the funeral, I mean. I always say I'm going to, more often, but…"

Just like Cass herself. She stiffens, marveling at how easy it seems for her to speak openly about this. "I'm not sure," the girl says with a gentle lift of one shoulder. "Maybe deep down, I just- don't want to." There's sorrow there, and shame along with it- when Cass turns, the girl's head is bowed, and she knows the statement wasn't a declaration of anything other than grief.

The words slip out, and for once, she feels like they're the right thing to say. "You're here now."

She smiles briefly, but her head stays lowered. Like she's trying to convince herself, the girl nods. "Yeah. I guess I am."

The wind pushes Cass to hold her arms around herself. The girl looks back to her. "Thank you," she says.

She wants to say _you're welcome_ , but the words are stuck. She's- honestly, she's not sure what's wrong, right now. Beyond, well, everything. So Cass nods instead, and focuses her gaze just above the headstone until the shiver on her back and the tightening in her throat both fade, and she's able to take deeper breaths.

The girl doesn't pry, or ask her anything. Maybe that's why, eventually, Cass feels steady enough to continue talking. "I'm… sorry," she begins. "But I think… I don't actually know your name. I mean, your real name."

Her head swings around with a wide-eyed look of surprise- and than, contrary to the expected _really_ or _how dare you_ or _rude_ , the girl actually smiles. She even starts to giggle. "No, I get it," she says. The bright smile Cass recognizes is _almost_ there. "It's fine. The nicknames get kinda confusing."

She extends her hand, even straightening to mock a serious, official stance. "Ana Luiz Ramirez," she says formally. "A pleasure to meet you."

It occurs to Cass that they're actually trying to have a light, semi-joking conversation in front of her nephew's grave. But… for some reason, she actually does feel like smiling. "It's funny," she says, shaking Ana's hand. "He- he talked about each of you, once in a while. And obviously I ran into you four around the restaurant, but I could never keep track of who was who."

"I blame Fred." Ana grins again. "He went a little overboard with the 'everybody gets a nickname' thing."

"So… why doesn't he have one?"

The grin gets more mischievous. "Whenever he's doing the school mascot shtick, he asks us to call him 'Fredzilla'."

That actually gets a laugh- an honest-to-god, real laugh- and Cass can't help but let it out, because it reminds her of Hiro's favorite cheesy monster movies, and it's such a bizarrely perfect fit for the laidback, beanie-wearing hippie who's always poking fun at his friends, yet, somehow, impeccably polite whenever he's talking to other customers. Or herself. Tadashi's friends are continuing to surprise her with their oddly specific quirks.

But the thought worms its way in: _if only Hiro was that excited about… anything, right now._

And Ana must see her face fall, but doesn't say anything- after a moment, Cass sighs and looks away. The graveyard is darker still, and honestly, she hadn't meant to stay this long. But- strange as it seems- she actually does feel better having someone else here. Someone who… she's not sure of the sentiment, exactly.

Maybe just someone who 'gets it'.

"I know… it's not really my place." Cass's heart sinks, because she instantly knows what's coming. Maybe it was silly to hope she could avoid this conversation. "But… are you…"

Ana hesitates, then turns to face her. "How have you been? Really. If- if you don't mind."

She's so, so tired of answering this question. Customers, even random passersby on the street once in a while- God, she's taken the tram _once_ since the fire, and it was one time too many, because the well-intentioned questions just kept coming, from people who thought it was somehow their business, and she couldn't just walk away.

But, if there's anyone in the entire city who deserves an answer, it's probably her.

She blinks. "Well, it's… I'm… I think things are…"

Ana waits, and gently touches her elbow. Eventually, Cass breathes deeply and shakes her head, like she's starting over. "The café keeps everything busy," she says in a more confident voice than she feels. "And Hiro has his classes, and that's- that's getting more and more…"

Her words trail off, and she's painfully aware that she's dodging the real question. But, to her immense gratitude, Ana doesn't press the issue- she doesn't immediately ask again, or throw out some platitudes that have been used by half the city by now, or anything else. She only waits, and listens.

Briefly, Cass has the thought that Tadashi's good-natured spirit must have rubbed off on his friends. Or the other way around.

The last mention of Hiro is still in her mind, and the wind moans and whistles through the trees as she struggles to fit the words together. "He's, um- he doesn't- I don't know what to do with him," she finishes in a rush. She suddenly feels like she _needs_ to say it, to force it all out into the world, into the light, so it doesn't just sit in her thoughts and whisper to her. "It feels like- every day, he's just getting more _angry,_ and- I thought I'd be able to help him."

Ana places her hand on Cass's shoulder, for a moment. She closes her eyes and tries to keep going. "And- and I can't imagine how much he's hurting, but- I don't know what to do to _help_. He wasn't… Tadashi was _everything_ to him, and he didn't- he wasn't really-" Her eyes open again, and she spares a wavering glance towards Ana. "…I think you're the first real friends he's had."

The expression on Ana's face is one of concern, and sympathy, and Cass is pretty sure there are tears forming in her eyes as well. She wants to continue, to lift it all away from herself so she's not the only one, and-

It's so tempting to tell her about Halloween.

The memory grips her like a vice. She buries her face in her hands, and- and she's not sobbing, yet, but she probably looks like a shaking wreck all the same. "I don't know what to _do_ ," she chokes out.

Gently, quietly, Ana starts guiding her- toward one of the benches near the side of the lot, Cass figures. She takes her hands away, blinking back tears so they can both sit down, and once more, Ana places a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she says, and for some reason, that only makes the swelling in her heart worse, and Cass feels like she's being crushed to the point there can't be anything _left._ "I- it must be terrible, seeing him like that."

And again, Cass wants to say more. It's incredible, she thinks- she's pouring out her soul to someone she barely knows that well. But at this point, she's too tired to care.

Ana pauses. "…But what about you?"

The words nearly make her jump, like an electric shock. She- she was trying, so carefully, to keep hidden the worst of it all, the deepest and most painful elements of the last months. And now-

Ana's looking at her, waiting, with that same encouraging smile. As if she just asked something perfectly normal. Maybe, Cass considers, she did.

The sun is hidden, now. The sky is a blank gray with only pockets of twilight blue-black coming through. The chill is biting through her jacket.

Her mouth feels dry. "I miss him," she says. _So much that it hurts, so much that I catch myself thinking there's nothing good left anywhere, so much that I have nightmares where I die and the worst part is, in the dream I'm GLAD to die-_ "I, um- I really miss him." It sounds pathetic and small, but Ana must understand, because she nods like it made perfect sense. "And people keep saying, that- that you just have to give it time. And it'll get better. And it's just- it's _time._ Like- like that's a good reason to think…"

She can't finish it, because the words are lost in a haze of frustration and pain, but after a few seconds Ana speaks up. "Like that should be enough to just perk up and be happy all of a sudden?"

Startled, Cass looks up at her. "…Yes."

She shrugs, and takes her hand away to fold them both in her lap. "Yeah. I had a few professors act the same way." Ana frowns, gazing at the ground in front of them. "…People want to help. And- sometimes, I think, they're sure that they have to _do_ something, you know? Like they need to come up with the perfect advice, or find a way to- I don't know, _solve_ it."

Every time the breeze picks up, it seems colder and colder. Cass shivers with each gust, but doesn't consider getting up yet.

"And on some level," Ana says while fiddling with a button on her jacket. "There's… nothing to solve. So it doesn't work, really, and then- I think that's how people can get frustrated, like 'Why are you still moping', and things like that. Like they're afraid that, if someone's still grieving, then… they failed."

…Cass often forgets just how _smart_ Tadashi's friends are.

Ana glances up at the clouds. "I think it's important to keep that in mind," she says in a small voice. "It's really easy to go into, like, 'They just don't understand' mode, but… people really do want to help. And they're trying." Anther half-smile breaks through. "My dad didn't even _know_ Tadashi, really, but… for like a week after the fire, he kept offering to go to my favorite restaurants, and buy me whatever new stuff I wanted, and… I didn't know how to explain it to him, you know?"

"Then- how _would_ you explain it?" Cass says. Ana leans back slightly on the bench, still looking upward in thought- and Cass is dimly aware that she's asking a twenty-one-year old for advice on philosophical life questions, but that's hardly the strangest thing that's happened in the last few months.

"I think I'd say…" She bites her lip for a second, and Cass is pretty sure her eyes shine a bit. "I'd say there isn't something he can just _do_ , that will make everything better. And the only thing I really need from him, is something he's already done."

Cass tilts her head, waiting for the answer- but Ana blushes a little bit, and she realizes that this is probably getting to be awfully personal. And maybe, since she's talking about her parents- even kind of embarrassing. She's about to tell Ana that she doesn't have to explain any more, if she doesn't want to-

"He… made it obvious he loves me," she finally says, hunching her shoulders in a way that makes her look like a teenager, reluctant to be fully transparent about feelings. "And that he just wants me to be happy. And- that's enough, you know? Even if he's going about it in a dorky way." She's looking down again, like that makes it easier to be honest. "Mom, too. They- I think they don't know what to do, and they're scared they're not doing enough, but… honestly, I just need them to be there."

The sky is nearly covered in gray, now.

…

Cass is overwhelmed by three separate trains of thought. One, that the girl sitting next to her has an awareness and sensitivity towards the people in her life that she wouldn't expect in _anyone_ , much less someone as young as a college student.

Two, that the idea of 'just need to be there' is ringing painfully in her mind. Because if that's the answer, then… the Hamadas as a whole don't have a prayer. It's a darkly ironic, bitter, angry feeling, and she _knows_ that Ana wasn't trying to say that, but- but the thought is there all the same.

Three, that grief and family and love and understanding are all supposed to be comforting and healing things, but right now they're scraping at the corners of her mind and laughing and taunting and screaming with Hiro's voice on Halloween night, and her _own_ voice as she screamed back-

"I'm sorry," Ana says suddenly, and looks back at her with tears in her eyes, but also with an apologetic smile. "I- I asked about you, and then… I made it all about me."

She can't say _anything_. Her words are paralyzed, locked back behind the pulsing, hurting blankness in her chest- and once again, everything seems so _impossible._

"Miss Hamada?" Her smile vanishes, and Ana looks alarmed, now, leaning forward to hold her shoulder. "What is it?"

Suddenly the problem reverses, and she can't _stop_ the words.

"…But he doesn't have _them_ either," she says, and she didn't _mean_ to- because that sounds like she's accusing Ana, like she's arguing, and she didn't want to do that- but didn't she? Doesn't she? "And now Tadashi's gone, and- and all we have is each other-" _nothing you can do to make it better-_ "But I don't think that's enough, because of course I want to help him- but no matter what, he just gets worse, and he gets more angry- and _I'm_ getting worse-"

She isn't looking at Ana anymore, and she can only assume by the silence that the girl is listening to her in shock. "I'm- I'm angry, too," she whispers, like she's wrestling the deepest and worst secret out of the shadows. No matter how much she'd rather keep it hidden. "Sometimes, I'm just- I'm so furious, and-"

The words freeze, and after a moment, Ana's hand is back on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she says again. "I didn't mean to- say something like- I didn't mean to be so insensitive. I shouldn't have-" She's stammering now, but continues on anyway. "And anyone would be angry. That's okay. You- you know that, right? You don't have to beat yourself up for that."

It's so much colder, than before. Cass is shaking. "No," she says. "Angry at- at Hiro."

The hand on her shoulder flinches. Cass can't bring herself to look Ana's way. Swallowing, she continues, before she loses her nerve. "And I- I almost hurt him," she says in a rush. "We were fighting, and- and I think I could- I could have hit him. I- I don't know if-" She shuts her eyes tight, but it doesn't help. "What if I can't help him?" she says, just before the tears are going to make it impossible to say anything clearly. "What if I- only make things worse?"

The words sound out, and fade into the wind, and- and that's _it_. She's not hiding anything else. She fully expects Ana to recoil in disgust, or leap to her feet and start running, or- or call the police, or something.

…

Instead, the hand stays resting on her shoulder.

…

Finally, Ana speaks again. "I'm so sorry-"

"Why do you keep saying that?" Cass demands, jerking her head up to look at her. "Why do you- you act like it's your fault, or- like you want to feel bad _for_ me, or-" The words die off, and she realizes she doesn't know what she was meaning to ask; it was simply an outburst, angry and random. She chokes back another sob, and turns away in shame.

"…Because I _do_ feel it," Ana says quietly. "Because it shouldn't have happened. Any of it. And- because it's not your fault. Even if, maybe sometimes you think it is."

But it is.

It _is._

Honestly, she can't believe Ana is even still talking to her- she'd be perfectly justified in leaving right now, after the way Cass has been treating her. She's shouting, and angry, and taking out all her problems on someone who doesn't deserve it in the slightest. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, pressing her hands against her face. "I- didn't mean to say that, I'm-" _Sorry, sorry, that word keeps popping up, for all the good it's doing-_ "I shouldn't have spoken like that, and- it wasn't-"

"Miss Hamada?" Ana cuts her off, but she sounds hesitant and cautious. "Will… um, will you look at me?"

It's such a polite question, that it catches her off guard. Cass turns to face her, and- and Ana looks her right in the eyes, and says quietly, "It's okay. It's not your fault. I promise, it's okay."

Is she- still talking about the outburst, or-

"This isn't your fault," she repeats, almost pleading. "It's _not_. I hope you can believe that."

God, this- it just _hurts_ , like it always does. And now Ana's looking at her like- almost like Tadashi used to look at Hiro, when he was trying to tell him something important and Hiro would be so stubborn that he wouldn't accept it, but Tadashi would keep telling him anyway-

"I want to ask you something."

The statement halts her thoughts, and for a second, she can only blink at Ana. The wind has died down, somewhat, and it's… quieter. Like everything's been frozen.

Ana looks more hesitant, now. "Did you… think about it at all? The program, I mean."

What.

…

The emotions are still there, but Cass is totally lost.

"What… program?" she eventually says, still reeling from the litany of charged thoughts swirling around her mind.

"With the school?" Ana frowns when there's still no reaction. "Didn't Wasabi ask you about it? I mean, uh- Gary?"

"No?" she says, so confused that she puts a lilt in the word like a question.

Ana mutters something under her breath in Spanish. Then, "He SAID he was gonna tell you, it was even his idea… I need to have a talk with that boy." She rubs at her eyes, suddenly looking tired. "No, no… I guess he was probably afraid he might be imposing, or butting in where he didn't belong, or… something."

"Um- Ana?" Cass says. "What are you talking about?"

"Right." With a determined look, Ana turns to her, swinging one leg up on the bench so she can face her more easily. "So- after the fire, SFIT had counselors on site for a while. Mostly for anyone who knew Tadashi, or Professor Callaghan. Basically, just- if anyone needed to talk, or if they were having problems with… what happened, it was free to ask for an appointment. Sometimes people would just walk in, and if there was time available, they could. You know." She shrugs. "Just talk."

"Alright." Cass is pretty sure she knows where this is going, but she listens anyway.

"Then, after it turned out that, uh, this crazy masked terrorist was actually the very same professor we all thought was dead, well… they brought in even more people." Ana is wringing her hands, now, most of the initial burst of confidence gone. "I think they've really helped," she adds earnestly. Or maybe nervously. It's hard to tell. "They're part of the psych department from one of the big state schools, I think. They really know what they're talking about. And, um. It's free, obviously. I mean, even if it wasn't free, it'd probably still be free for you, so…"

She trails off, like she's realized she didn't need to keep adding on more information. But the words are important, and in the midst of everything else, Cass tries to focus in on the idea. She… honestly, she hasn't really thought about- counseling. Therapy. The idea used to seem foreign, somehow- or maybe _weak_ was the better word. As if it somehow made you less of a person.

But, recently… that's exactly how she's been feeling anyway. Just- less of herself.

"If you think it could help," Ana says even more quietly. Like she's the one who's afraid of imposing. "I mean, I- I know it helped me to talk to them a few times. So I guess I'm saying _I_ think it would help."

Maybe there's another way to look at it. Cass tries to breathe deeply, and think about this rationally. If… if she needs help, and there's a way to get help, then… wouldn't it be foolish to ignore it? Didn't she just admit that she's thought about hurting Hiro?

The realization makes her stomach churn, and she realizes there's nothing she can say that won't seem impossibly stubborn. "I- I'm not sure," she says blankly, then adds, "I'll think about it." She has no idea if she really means the words or not.

"Good," Ana says warmly. Then, a pause. "Did… Hiro ever mention anything about it?"

No.

No, he didn't.

Cass shakes her head, trying to ignore how painful it is to think about: Hiro knew. And he never said anything about it. But… compared to everything else, that seems like the least of their issues.

"Right," Ana says eventually. "I'll, uh- I'll just write down-" she trails off into mumbling, and Cass can't quite hear her, but finally she hands her a piece of paper with a phone number. "It's just the front desk of the school, but I'm sure they'll help you get to the right department. Or… I'll check tomorrow and see if there's a different number to set it up." She hesitates again. "Um. If you want, I mean."

"That's fine." Slowly, she takes the note, then shakes her head and stows it away in her purse. "I- I'll-" Once more, the words are tied up around her tongue. Ana gives her another smile, and she eventually settles on, "…Thank you."

It's quiet, once more. Cass turns with a small shiver- the cold is only going to get more biting, the longer they stay here- and looks forward again, at the stone. And the leaves, and the flowers, and the etched letters that never change, never fade, never come to life.

Above her, there's so little sky poking through the veil of clouds.

There's something a bit beautiful about weather like this. Not quiet, not warm, not peaceful- but it's as if the sky and the green grass and the sun itself are hidden away, saved for some other time, and the rest of the world is struggling through the cold until the colors come back again. Cass blinks back the last few tears, but can't bring herself to stand up quite yet.

…It's a foolish wish, and probably an unhealthy one, but- she just wants to _talk_ to him again. Just once. She just wishes she could ask for his advice, even though she's supposed to be the adult.

She wonders what he'd say, about all of this. About her.

…

And for the first time, the thought that breaks through is a hopeful one. It's one that makes her feel stronger, and makes the weight of everything seem lighter.

Cass turns to look at Ana, sitting beside her in quiet solidarity.

 _Maybe I already know what he'd say._

…

…

…

…

…

…

He only hears about the collapse by random chance.

The earthquake is small- noticeable in most of the city, but not anything more, and the well-weathered public mostly give it a shrug and the occasional huff of annoyance when a picture frame falls. For his part, Hiro barely pauses the music running on his laptop long enough to feel the tremors.

Pretty meager. He sighs and goes back to flicking through three different tabs- one research, one a compilation of notes, and one the current draft of the diagram he's working on.

Until the itch at the back of his mind grows into a worry, because he can't just _ignore_ stuff. Not now. Not after these last few months. On a hunch, he jumps over to a news site that usually posts pretty quickly, to see how strong the quake was across the city. Slightly stronger near the coast. Worrying, but not catastrophic.

Moments later, the reports start to pop up. An apartment complex, collapsing in on itself- some kind of faulty construction that's finally coming apart thanks to the quake. Within a few minutes, Hiro's able to track down an address for the building, and the accompanying news updates.

The first thing he sees is a bulletin across the bottom of the screen- BUILDING COLLAPSED, TENANTS STILL INSIDE- and it hits him like a punch to the gut. Not just worrying, not just a tragedy- for an instant, he can't place the other feeling that's crawling over him.

As soon as his phone starts buzzing, though, he knows what it is.

This is… the kind of thing they'd be working on. That was the plan, anyway. Back before- well, back when he thought the team would be able to do more missions, post-Callaghan. But they- they can't, right? They don't have Baymax. They- can't.

He can't.

But his phone's going crazy, and he can't just ignore it. At least there's the small grace that, since this is serious, Wasabi or Honey changed the joke names.

 **[]**

 **Chat settings have been set to default.**

 **Open Group Chat**

[]

 **Go_Go** : guys are you seeing this

 **Fred** : oh man oh man oh man

 **Fred** : this is RIGHT NOW, right?

 **Honey_Lemon** : Hiro, what do you think?

 **Go_Go** : look we gotta hurry

 **Go_Go** : if we're gonna do something, we better do it now

 **Wasabi** : What, though? What exactly is our plan here?

 **[]**

They want to help. Of course they want to help.

It suddenly hits him, that they're all itching to jump back in- to save people, and use this crazy team he set up to actually help the city, and not just- hunt someone down-

…

" _-I HAD him-"_

…

And he's sitting there, sick, phone in his hand; unable to move. They're still arguing.

 **[]**

 **Go_Go** : I could get to fred's in 5

 **Go_Go** : if we get our suits with the comms, then everythingll go faster right

 **Fred** : AW YEAH

 **Fred** : hiro how soon can we get the group synced up?

 **Fred** : for talking over the headsets I mean

 **[]**

And he's just paralyzed. He can't say anything. He's- the research is all still in front of him, and… and he's totally lost.

This is happening _right now._

 **[]**

 **Wasabi** : I don't think there's time! I can get to the mansion as fast as I can, but for all of us to get to the site from there…

 **Wasabi** : I don't know.

 **Honey_Lemon** : without Baymax, do we have a way of getting there quickly? We can't exactly take the trams.

 **Go_Go** : for real Hiro whats our plan here

 **Go_Go** : me and fred can probably get there fastest

 **Go_Go** maybe we should just go by ourselves

 **Wasabi** : Guys no!

 **Wasabi** : We can't just rush in there without a plan

 **Wasabi** : You might make things worse!

 **[]**

The argument is spinning out of control. Hiro's trying to ignore it- trying to think of the fastest routes through the city, to figure out if there's even a chance that they could get there in time, if- if they save time by getting their suits- why did they think it was a good idea to keep everything at the mansion, damn it, he can't think straight, the phone's still buzzing, they keep asking why he's not answering-

He can't-

But he wouldn't be able to help anyway, because he'd just sort of stay back and yell advice over the comms- because without Baymax he's freaking USELESS-

…

…

…

He doesn't know exactly how much time has passed, but he blinks, and looks more closely at the news feed in front of him. And he finally opens up the chatlog.

 **[]**

 **Hiro** : guys

 **Hiro** : it's over

 **[]**

The evacuation's finished. A reporter on the scene is saying that emergency workers have already safely gotten everyone out. Part of the building collapsed, but no one was hurt.

Hiro sets his phone down on the desk.

…

Already, there's speculation over whether the city will have the building torn down, since it's already half-destroyed. Probably within a few weeks.

…

He glances back to his phone a few times, but seeing his friends' confused reactions just makes him feel… sick. They're just as unsettled as he is- the bizarre feeling of being left hanging, even though obviously this is the best possible solution. They're still trying to get ahold of him, asking questions and- and trying to keep talking to him.

And yeah, there it is- an actual call. Honey, he assumes, and he's proven right once the 'answer' function pops up.

His phone is lying on the desk, so each vibration buzzes it closer to the edge. Hiro doesn't pick it up.

…It would be one thing if it had ended in disaster. Hell, part of his mind almost expected that to happen- he froze up, and couldn't think of what to do, and drowned in his own stupid, screwed-up, panicked brain to the point where he literally couldn't even talk to his friends. It would almost make sense for that to lead to a catastrophe.

Instead, it ended up fine. So the part of him that's desperately crying out, _"You should have helped,"_ is easily rebuked by the part of him that's parroting Wasabi's words back- _"You could have made it even worse."_

So the part of him that wants to pick up his phone- that part's defeated, too. And he just watches as his phone slips closer to the edge.

It stops.

'MISSED CALL'

Feeling a strange kind of numb, Hiro slowly looks back to his computer. The news feed has switched to footage of the building collapsing earlier, side-by-side with an interview of one of the workers who went in to finish the evacuation.

…He shouldn't be affected by this, he thinks vaguely.

It has nothing to do with him.

So he clicks out of the news report, and scans the three documents in front of him. His phone tries to get his attention once in a while, but he ignores it. It's time to get back to work.

…

…

…

…

…

…

The darkness is growing.

It's melodramatic, Cass knows, and she's not _trying_ to think of it in terms like 'the darkness'. That just seems to be what her mind comes up with, she supposes. It works slowly, but can still come out of nowhere- days that should be going well, or nights that should be peaceful and calm, and then suddenly… they aren't. And she almost can't think, can't even keep up a brave smile for Hiro's sake.

She tries to focus on what Ana said, and what Tadashi would say. But it's so much easier to picture everything that _Hiro_ said, and… that's when it all starts to feel like 'the darkness'.

 _Just talk to him_

And the other thoughts simply keep growing. Quiet, easy thoughts. Thoughts that don't seem out of place, most of the time. That she's failing, somehow. That she has to keep trying to do better. That Hiro's slipping away. That she'll never be able to get Tadashi back. That everything will only get worse. That she's exhausted, and she doesn't know if she can go on much longer, and…

 _Just talk to him, help him, be a halfway decent replacement for once, just help him, just TALK TO HIM_

That there might not even be a reason to keep going.

That's the one that stops her, just about to lie down in bed to begin the now-hours-long cycle of trying to get to sleep. Because of course she's felt… bad, before. The time immediately after Tadashi's death was the worst, and even though it's only been a few months, she was at least able to focus her time on the café, and Hiro, and the outpouring of well-meaning friends who provided shoulders to cry on.

Now, most of those well-wishers have moved on. Hiro's in his own world, most of the time. And no matter how many times she tells herself, _I'm needed, I have people I care about and trust, I can make it through this,_ it doesn't seem to help.

But she's supposed to be the 'guardian'. She's the adult of the family, the caretaker, the one who made it her mission to raise her two nephews when the unimaginable happened, and-

-and the thought jumps in, pointed and brutal, that she's _already half-failed, then_ -

-and she can't afford to be… weak, like this. She can't be hurting like this. She's heard people throw around terms like 'depression', but surely that's more serious than this, isn't it? She's just struggling with grief. And she… she can't let herself get too caught up in that. This isn't the time to call out for help, because _she_ needs to be the one who can _give_ help, now. She has to be stronger. She has to be better.

Which is why it hurts so much that she feels so worthless.

…

And, it's why she tells herself that this will help.

For the longest time, both her nephews practically lived in the garage; she had to remind them to keep the space clean just as often as she chided them about their bedroom. (And she never bothered parking the van there- it was vastly easier to use the driveway, and besides, it was too broken-down-looking to worry about it getting stolen.) As such, there are still a number of Tadashi's things littered around the room, from books and a jacket or two on the sofa, to a pizza box stuffed in the corner where the boys had clearly not cared to walk all the way to the wastebasket. They more or less turned it into a workstation, too, especially with Hiro's recent project for the Showcase. So the computer by the far wall is like a shrine to those hectic few weeks, with notes and prototypes scattered on the shelves nearby.

She stands in the doorway for a moment.

…This will be a good thing. A step forward, maybe. And remembering him doesn't have to be painful, right? It shouldn't be.

It _isn't_ , she forces herself to think- and then she gets started.

…

She'll clean up the attic, too. Eventually. She will.

…

More than once, she can't tell if an item is Hiro's or his.

…

The menial parts of the task aren't so bad. Sweeping; taking a garbage bag around the mess and collecting miscellaneous scraps; moving the sofa so it isn't so difficult to walk through the room.

 _Moving it from where Tadashi had it set up, when they were going to try to get ready for a video game marathon- and she heard Hiro curse for the first time ever, something about being in first place on the final lap- yelling so loud that she'd heard from the living room- and she threw the door open to see his face go completely white, and Tadashi was laughing so hard he fell off the couch-_

…

She keeps sweeping.

The worst are the school supplies. He did a lot of work down here, so more than a few notebooks and paper packets are piled on counters and shelves, and- she has to gather them up, because she can't just _leave_ them here, and-

They're not finished.

She can see where he stopped writing. Stopped studying. Stopped partway through an assignment, because- because he'd be able to finish it over the weekend, or maybe get together with classmates and work on it together-

The papers slip out of her hands, and she can't bring herself to pick them back up. They're lying on the sofa, now, splayed out and bent at the corners. Cass leaves them, and focuses on the rest of the room.

Her thoughts are still wandering, trying and not trying to think about anything except Tadashi, and the way the entire garage seems to _scream_ that he and Hiro were always there, always meant to be there- she picks up scraps of paper, books, empty bags of candy- and it's all swirling together, the way everything is so different from a few months ago, and she's trying to run the café and keep busy with other things, so she isn't only consumed by thoughts of her family, but it's so difficult- with Hiro's anger, and the way he _yelled_ that night, and- and the way there's an _absence_ in the house, only feeling stronger as time passes, so bleak and real and heavy that she swears she can _see_ it-

There's a newspaper clipping in her hand.

She didn't notice until she picked it up. Thought it was just some more scraps of notebook paper, from a late-night study session. But she blinks, and- and sees the headline-

Oh.

Oh, no. No, she can't- she's going to-

She can feel the thoughts slowly creeping in, dragging paranoia and panic behind them like chains, burrowing through her and crying out _heroes, fighting, danger, villain, professor Robert Callaghan of former SFIT academic fame-_

 _MYSTERIOUS GROUP PREVENTS DISASTER AT KREI INDUSTRIES_

She needs to be calm. She needs to be reasonable, and not make any wild assumptions, because- because this is _not_ proof of anything. This article was torn from a newspaper, months ago, and now it's here in her garage. That's all. Hiro- likely saved it, and brought it here, for some reason.

That's all she knows.

It doesn't prove anything.

But even so, her breathing is uneven and rough- she closes her eyes, trying to muffle sobs, trying not to think about the paragraphs that detail how the mystery heroes _threw_ themselves into harm's way, leaping from flying robots and battling would-be killers in the sky while some kind of doomsday device ripped buildings from the earth and _she can't remember WHERE HIRO WAS THAT DAY-_

She can't make that assumption. She can't let herself suspect- can't put the pieces together, because it's _crazy_ , but it's seeming more and more plausible every day, and- and what if it isn't a paranoid delusion, what if she's _right-_

She opens her eyes. They couldn't get a picture of the heroes for the article, so the blowup under the headline is a picture of the destroyed buildings, just after the reconstruction projects had started. She remembers, though- news channels had been able to grab grainy, blurred footage for just a second, of a group of fast-moving figures, in brightly colored costumes. One shaped more like a monster, leaping and spitting fire. Three, fairly tall, running and sliding and sending projectiles flying. Another, one that actually flew, built more like an action figure- bulkier than a person could be, and taller as well. And the sixth, shorter than the rest. Almost the size of a child.

Only once, she allowed herself to scour the Internet for information about this strange case. Forums and conspiracy enthusiasts were quick to begin speculating who the heroes were- and they'd really only arrived at two concrete conclusions.

The heroes knew science.

And the leader was the shortest of the group- likely about four feet, six inches tall.

Cass distinctly remembers the automatic thought that flashed through her mind when she read that: _they're almost right. He's four foot four._ And the burn of horror at what she'd just imagined, because she hadn't _meant_ to think that, hadn't meant to let the unconscious worry slip through even for an instant, connecting speculation to fear to coincidence to suspicion- and Hiro wouldn't _do_ that, wouldn't lie to her and hide something like this from her, so- so why can't she stop thinking about it- why can't she stop looking at this godforsaken piece of paper, burning in her hand like a death warrant, just a collection of words and a picture of some rubble on a scrap of newspaper, but it feels like it's tearing her world apart even more than it already is-

What do you do, with this? What's the right thing?

Her fingers twitch, and it slips from her grasp. It floats jerkily to one side, slipping beneath the sofa before she can grab it again. For a moment, she doesn't move- simply standing in the garage, she looks down at the spot where it vanished under the furniture.

It's quiet, out here. She can hear her own breathing: steadier, now, as if everything's fine. And she can't see the paper anymore- she can almost pretend that nothing has changed. She came in here to clean up the garage, and now it's finished.

She _can't_ let herself get caught up in paranoia. Hiro always liked superheroes. He likely thought this was a cool story.

She can't fall apart.

…

So what _can_ she do?

She remembers a night, from back when they were teenagers- Lee was getting into a big argument with their father, and Cass herself was upstairs, but she could still hear it. Something about staying out too late- she couldn't make out the details. She'd never heard her brother yell like this. She'd never heard her father sound so serious.

It passed, of course. Normal teenage-rebellion wars of words, that eventually smoothed over in time for joyful, teary-eyed high school graduations. But for some reason, she can still remember that night- and one stern question, asked over and over, sticking in her mind for years and years.

" _What am I supposed to do? Just tell me that, Lee- what am I supposed to do?"_

He was probably trying to make a point, about how his son was causing all kinds of problems that he couldn't solve by simply grounding him- or maybe venting his frustration over the simple fact that nothing was breaking through Lee's attitude problem. But the question morphed, over time, ringing in her ears whenever something impossible stopped her in her tracks, long after they'd both moved out and made all the right amends with their parents- she could still hear it, with the desperation and confusion and pain and bitterness that only seemed to grow louder over time.

Louder when she was standing near two graves, and the preacher fought to talk over the bitter, howling wind.

Louder still at the next grave, in the pouring rain and a huddle of black umbrellas.

 _What am I supposed to do?_

She closes her eyes again, and for a second, it's all pushed away.

 _What am I supposed to do?_

She'll have to choose, eventually. She'll have to find some way to move forward. God, she's so sick of hearing that bit of advice- that she'll be alright, over time, and Hiro will come around, and they'll _move on._ On some level, she knows that's just common sense, because people somehow grow and fight through grief- and life goes on.

And the strangest thing is, she honestly believed she'd already been through the worst of it. Two children, three and nine- _nine and a half, he'd said with a scowl, when Mrs. Matsuda pinched his cheek and complimented him on his manners, and he squirmed away muttering that he was WAY too old for that, and Cass had to laugh because he was still trying so hard to be polite-_ suddenly thrown into her life without any explanation or assistance, and she was grieving and broken and terrified that she'd raise them wrong, or hurt them somehow, but at least they were all broken the same way and at least they could try to- get through it- together-

At some point, Cass sank down to be sitting on the sofa, and she finally lets the tears start.

…

It still hurts. All of it.

 _What am I supposed to do?_

…

…

…

…

…

…

On some level, Hiro assumed that he'd been through the worst of it.

It was after the funeral. There was a moment, lost in the haze of empty days and nightmares, where he thought to himself- that at the very least, now he knew what it was like to love someone, and have them ripped away. Now, he wouldn't take anything for granted. As cynical and bleak as it sounded, he could be… ready. Because it happens to everyone, right? Might as well get used to it.

…

He thought he could be ready. But Baymax-

…

Sometimes he feels like he's still in the portal. Floating, drifting, no sense of gravity or weight or anything else to ground him- like the entire world's been pulled out from under his feet, and it doesn't _matter_ what he thought he knew. It doesn't matter that this has already happened once before. It doesn't matter if he's hopeful, or skeptical, or if he just assumes the worst of everything. None of it matters.

It still hurts, just the same. And there's nothing he can do about it.

Briefly, he tries convincing himself that he doesn't care that much about Baymax- mentally repeating that every setback and obstacle in the restoration, is just another reason he shouldn't even worry if he'll ever have him back. This is just another robotics project, and there's not really anything to lose if he fails. Baymax can't be any _more_ gone than he is now.

 _But he can, he obviously CAN, you complete moron, you idiot, you can't just lie and say this isn't important-_

"Mister Hamada?"

Sound. His thoughts snap together, all falling by the wayside as he struggles to focus on the present. He's in class, with the prof staring at him, and the rows in front of him are kinda turned to see him, to laugh quietly. He can only assume everyone behind him is doing the same. Friggin' halfwits.

The more immediate problem is Professor Kapur, not standing anywhere _near_ the lectern in front, so… if Hiro had to guess, he'd say the good doctor has been trying to get his attention for a while, now. He wasn't sleeping, but it probably sure looked like he was.

In his mind, the different elements of the scenario are, objectively, a bad situation. Interestingly enough, he finds he doesn't _care._ This is… pretty much the least important thing going on, right now. God, why is he even here? He's missed this class more than he's come to it, probably. Not like one 'present' mark for the week is going to change anything. He could be getting _actual_ work done.

"Do you want to _try_ answering the question?" the professor asks, sounding somewhat resigned. Like he knows he won't get anywhere with the attempt. That, at least, Hiro can respect.

Another laugh from the peanut gallery, and his mood turns sour again. "I'd say no, but that probably counts as an answer, doesn't it?" he says. Again, objectively, mouthing off to the professor? In a class he needs, to continue on with his current semester plan? Not his best idea. But again. That presupposes that caring is a thing that's happening.

He gets a few chuckles, at least, and Dr. Kapur sighs. "I do allow drinks during this lecture, Mr. Hamada. And I'm not telling you to flood your system with coffee every class period, but I'm not saying you _can't_." Well, what do you know, Hiro's Applied Engineering class is run by a goddamn comedian. It's like he's honestly trying to get the last word in. Huh. "Unfortunately, I can't accommodate your schedule by moving this class to 2 a.m., so my only other suggestion is to try to get more sleep."

When Hiro glances to the clock, he realizes that the lecture's time is just about over- there are students on either side of him already throwing their notes and whatever into backpacks. No wonder Kapur's been so cavalier with wasting official class time. "Better idea," Hiro says, when he looks back. "I'll pick up some of those googly eyes, and just…" He trails off, miming the action of slapping the toys over his eyes. On a whim, he sets his head down on the desk, snoring loudly while keeping his eyes open.

The professor shrugs, clearly in a good enough mood that he's not bothered. "As long as you're pretending to pay attention, my fragile ego is satisfied," he says, and it's such a bizarre monotone- combined with such a weird thing to say in the first place- that he gets even more of a laugh, while half the class is already heading for the doors. "Thursday will be review," he says more loudly, not looking at anyone in particular. "We'll be going over the topics for next week's test. Same time, same channel."

Yeah, 'cause he hasn't used that joke a hundred times already. Hiro barely _goes_ to this class, and he still knows that. He glances down at the notebook in front of him- he obviously placed it on the desk at the beginning of the lecture, but he didn't even open it. Huh. He doesn't even have something to write with. Has he just… been zoned out, for this entire hour and forty minutes?

Someone's calling his name again. Mechanically, like he's not really trying to, Hiro moves the notebook back to his backpack. Or- he tries to. It's… not where he left it?

"Mr. Hamada."

Oh, no, here it is. Just on the other side of his chair. Ha. He thought he set it down over _here_ , earlier. Weird.

"Mr. Hamada."

Eventually, he looks up- making sure to take his time before he actually focuses on the figure in front of him. "Can I help you?" he says.

Kapur has his hands in his pockets, which is an awkward look for a college professor. The last few students trickling out of the room glance back, and Hiro once again feels the sting of knowing that they're _judging_ him. He's not even saying it ironically, this time- the stares, the laughs that are half with him and half 'can you believe this punk-ass nerd', the way people either slink away from him or literally don't even see him. It's back. It's all coming right back. _Isn't that nice_ , he thinks sarcastically. Just like old times.

Maybe he's jumping to conclusions. He didn't feel like this a month ago, did he?

He ignores the thought. Oh, crap, Kapur's still talking. He must have zoned out again.

"-quite a few times recently," the professor's saying, and Hiro halfheartedly tries to remember what they're talking about. Probably his little daydream escapade, right? Yeah. Or, if not that, maybe they'll retread the whole "I'm sorry for your loss" thing. That's a classic. Well, that and the growing sentiment of "Get over it, loser," that he's picking up from a lot of his so-called peers.

And now Kapur's waiting for him to respond.

Hm. Briefly, he entertains the thought of slinging a few more jokes- but, nah. There's a part of him that wants to revert to Old Hiro- I'm sorry, I'll try to do better, I really will- and the side of him that's just _done_ with all this. For God's sake, he's been to class like five times. Does Chuckles the Clown over here need more proof that he doesn't care about this goddamn class?

 _(this isn't me, this isn't how I think, I'm not- I don't want to be like this-)_

"Dunno what you want me to say, sir," Hiro says with a tilt of his head. Standing, he pulls his backpack up so it's over one shoulder. "I could try to come up with a really, really sincere-sounding apology, but my essay skills are rusty, and I doubt you'd buy it anyway."

Kapur doesn't bat an eye at the sass. "Actually, I do have a question for you. And I'd like you to answer honestly."

"Sure."

The professor looks at him for a moment. "…What do you hope to gain from this class?"

Good. _God._ That's literally the most college-y question he's ever heard. Hiro has to fight to keep from snickering right in front of the guy- they're like two steps away from talking about their feelings and taking a personality assessment. "Honestly?" he repeats, already gearing up for his next lazy joke.

Then, he stops. "Honestly," he says quietly. Huh.

…Why not? Not like it really matters, at this point. Besides, he's too tired to think up anything else.

"Alright, yeah. Honestly," he repeats again. He takes a second to think, glancing down at the desk with a frown.

"…I really, truly don't care. And, _honestly_ , that's nothing against you. The rest of my classes are even worse. I have no interest in what we're discussing, I do not care if I fail next week's test, and again, to be completely _honest,_ I think this is a waste of your time and mine. But quitting everything would be even more of a hassle." He shrugs, switching back to the laid-back and light tone he was using before. "...long as we're being _honest_ , and all."

Kapur blinks. And Hiro kinda feels good about that, because he finally got Captain Stoneface to finally be surprised, but he also kinda feels like a douchebag, because who feels _good_ about something like that? The emotions combine into a vague blur of sarcasm, self-loathing, and apathy, and he mentally smacks himself before saying "Later," and starting for the exit.

"Mister Hamada," Professor Kapur says again. With his quick exit foiled, Hiro reluctantly turns back- in time for the professor to hand him a piece of paper. "When you have the chance, I want you to set up an appointment with the guidance counselor." Hiro must blink and not-respond for a little too long, because eventually he continues. "Consider it a course requirement."

He looks to the note, then back up to Kapur. "Huh," he says eventually. "Yeah, I'm… not gonna do that. Sorry."

"Would you rather fail the class altogether?"

It's casual, and Hiro has to fight not to use the exact same easygoing tone- _actually, yeah, sounds great._ If at all possible, it would be _really_ wonderful if his brain could dial back the sass right now. Maybe it's some residual Tadashi advice, but no matter how apathetic he is, he _can't_ just give up on everything. And flunking would be… really freaking embarrassing, honestly.

"Look, Mr. Hamada." Kapur sighs. "I know that…"

Oh, God, he's going to do that thing. The thing _everyone_ keeps doing, where they preface some rebuke or complaint with _I know things have been tough since, you know, your brother died and all, but try to pay more attention in class, m'kay?_ He's glaring at the professor, now, and he has no intention of walking it back and apologizing- not now. He's not going to be able to.

He almost kind of wants him to say it. He looks at him as if he's _daring_ him to say it.

Come on.

Just say what you think.

Still thinking, Kapur crosses his arms. "…I know I cannot force you to like this class," he says eventually. "Or, as you so aptly stated, to even care at all." He pauses for a second, and Hiro can at least appreciate that he's carefully choosing his words.

And, also, that he's genuinely a little surprised.

"Alright. There are two ways of going about this." Kapur breaks eye contact, moving to gather up some papers on the lectern. "One- I draw up an official record of your… let me see, twelve missed classes, and four late arrivals. I tally every instance of- well, let's call them 'behavioral incidents'. We drag it through the convoluted and tedious disciplinary process of our _lovely_ school, and some campus office workers you've never met decide if your grand prize, at the end of the day, is strikes on your transcript… or suspension. Most likely for the semester, or the year."

What.

What the hell.

"Two-" Professor Kapur hesitates for a moment, now that the supplies are compiled neatly into one stack. He places them in a satchel, then lifts it over his shoulder as if he, too, is about to leave. "You take Thursday's class off," he says, a bit less sarcastic-sounding. "I email you the lecture notes, and you visit the guidance counselor instead. And you can discuss what you'd like to do next."

...Seriously, what the _hell._ "Next?" Hiro repeats, although that's only one of his questions.

Kapur shrugs. "You said it yourself, Mr. Hamada. If you don't want to attend classes- if you don't want to attend this school- you shouldn't have to. Or, perhaps, you're no longer _sure_ if you want to, or not." He looks back at the empty lecture hall, for a second. "And I believe," he says, "answering that question, now, matters more than any lecture I can give you."

…He's absolutely lost. He was ready to _fight_ this guy- verbally, of course. He was ready for another blowup, with dramatic declarations and more mistakes that he could feel shitty about at the end of the day. Now, though, it's like the rug's been swept out from under him- he can't get mad at him _now._ This just isn't fair. "I'll… think about it?" he doesn't mean the words to curl up their sound, like a question. It just seems to happen.

"I hope you do," the professor answers. Then he walks past him. He actually _walks past him_ , then out the door, like this wasn't even a big deal. Hiro is now alone in this giant lecture hall.

…

He looks down at the note in his hands.

He suddenly feels very, very foolish.

It persists all the way across campus, where he finally gets to the office building with the… actually, he has no idea what's in this one. A lot of official academia things, he always assumed. And, apparently, a guidance counselor's office.

He kind of hoped that he wouldn't be able to find it. But, yeah, there's a sign right next to the door. Mission accomplished.

…Damn it.

This particular hall isn't too crowded. He's not in anyone's way. There's no hurry. But… no reason to wait here, either. Just… go in, and set up the appointment for Thursday. He can do it. It'll be easy.

He scuffs his shoe against the floor.

Easy. Wouldn't take a minute. Just- give them the paper, and mumble the explanation, and set up the time. This should be _easy_. He doesn't even have to go to class next Thursday.

…should be easy.

Hiro doesn't move, and he doesn't look away from the door.

…

He spends a moment trying to identify the feeling. It's… Huh. Probably the best way to put it would be: an overwhelming sense that this doesn't matter. This doesn't matter. He doesn't need help.

Not because he's okay- he's not stupid enough to think everything's fine.

He doesn't need help, because there _is_ no okay.

The thought puts some fire in his motions, and he quickly steps back and turns- about to walk purposefully down the hall, and out of the building, and to the tram stop. This was stupid, he finds himself thinking again. It was all so _stupid._

That's all the further he gets before colliding with someone.

The guy grunts, and Hiro half-expects a 'Watch it, punk' or something similar. College students are usually a bit more reserved, though, and instead there's a muttered 'sorry' that's just about as quiet as the apology he offers back, before quickly moving away.

"Oh, hey, look who it is!"

Hiro doesn't turn around. He doesn't stop walking. Guy's probably talking to someone else.

"Kapur's class, right? It's the man himself!"

…Okay, he's talking to him. But it's fine. He doesn't care. Sounds kinda like the douche-bro type that thinks he's funny, but doesn't sound like a bully, exactly.

"Jokes! Come on, man, don't be like that!"

Now, Hiro does stop.

And- this really comes out of nowhere, to be honest- he suddenly pictures Tadashi, standing in the crowd, on the night of the Showcase. Holding up his hands- _Breathe._

He breathes.

"So, did prof give you, like, a lecture about listening when he's giving lectures?" the guy says, almost cheerfully. Hiro has no idea if he's antagonizing him, or if he genuinely thinks he's being funny and reaching out. "And if you didn't listen to _that_ one, he'd just have to give you another lecture about _that,_ and…"

Hiro can't explain where the anger comes from, exactly. He's daydreamed on occasion about a day of classes going exceptionally badly- someone badmouthing Tadashi, or needling him about the Showcase, or trying to throw him in one of the trashcans high-school-style. For the most part, though, that hasn't really happened.

His fingers curl into a fist, and he swears he can hear his heart beating. Tensed up. His skin is buzzing like electricity.

"Alright, alright, sorry- I won't call you Jokes, if you want." The guy's standing off to his side. Hiro could look over at him, and see who he is. Maybe he'll even recognize him. Or remember the guy's name.

Maybe he'll talk to him, even. Maybe they'll be friends.

"Your name's Hiro, right?" In the corner of his vision, he sees the guy reach out a hand. "I'm-"

…

…

…

It's funny, Hiro thinks in a brief second of lost time. He probably _was_ just trying to be friendly. Hell, he was even introducing himself.

Hiro pulls back, and punches him in the face.

Things from there get pretty hazy. Nameless Guy stumbles back, probably more from shock than from the punch, and totally loses his balance when he hits the a chair near the wall, so he ends up on the ground- someone's yelling, and there are almost definitely people running out of the guidance office toward him. Yeah, there they are- one of them's demanding something of him, asking a question about whatever, and another one grabs his shoulder- he doesn't need to bother, because it's not like Hiro's planning to start swinging at everyone in the vicinity. In fact, most of the buzzing, tense energy is gone- he just blinks a few times, looking in Guy's direction, vaguely thinking that it was kinda funny how he fell.

Campus security, maybe? Or more likely, just one of the office workers. They're still talking, but Hiro's pretty much tuned out. The hand on his arm is pulling him down a stairway and through a few more halls, probably for… some kind of reprimand. Suspension? He has no idea. Vaguely, he wonders if Guy ended up with a bloody nose.

Also, he realizes that he hasn't been dragged away and marched to an office to be punished since high school.

Hah. It's not that different, after all.

…

…

…

The dean's still talking. God damn, this guy can really eat up time. How is he not tired? Hiro blinks a few times, himself feeling pretty worn-out.

Actually, wait, this guy's not the dean, is he? Probably someone's assistant or something. Shit, he can't remember exactly whose office this is. Even if he could, he never really kept track of official employee titles in the corrections-and-disciplinary-actions department of the school. In fact, he just made that up- that's probably not a real department.

Good God. Still talking.

He's… bored.

 _This is wrong this is bullshit this is terrifying_

 _Should feel bad should feel remorse should feel SOMETHING_

Yeah, that captures it pretty well. Just bored.

Most of the lecture goes in one ear _ashamed, disgraceful- unbelievable- "What would Mom and D-"_ and out the other. They're gonna figure out the logistics of it all later, he's told. For now, he should head home.

…That seems like an alright idea.

He's on the afternoon tram, one hand on a railing while he stares at the people on the streets, and nothing's actually wrong. He feels okay. The world around him looks normal, and he, like… his senses are fine. He almost expects to feel like things don't look the same, or sound the same, but no. Everything's perfectly alright.

Just for a minute, he thinks of the guy he punched. Never actually caught his name. Probably got him a bruise. Maybe messed up his nose. He doesn't know.

 _Nothing Baymax couldn't take care of-_

His hand grips the rail tighter.

…God, when was the last time he actually got in a _fight?_ Well, not a fight, exactly- but even a punch like that. It has to have been, at least- yeah, back in high school, probably. A few years ago.

…

He called him 'Jokes'. And he was about to introduce himself. And then he just… dropped. So surprised, that he couldn't even keep himself from falling.

Hiro closes his eyes.

He's getting worse. He knows he is. He's more angry, and hostile, and- and sometimes he feels like an animal, trapped or starving, or- it doesn't make sense- like a beast that _has_ to snap and bite at anyone who comes near, because what else can he _do_ -

...No. Not 'different'. He's not getting worse.

He's going back. He was that way before all of this, too- back in high school. It's almost like reverting back to the old Hiro. The real Hiro. Maybe, deep down, this is just who he is.

For some reason, even that thought doesn't worry him, anymore. It just seems… unnecessary. Like he should be focusing his time and effort on- yeah, in fact, if he's being objective about this, worrying about anything else is silly. And a waste of time.

He should be concerned with Baymax.

He's been kind of an idiot about this whole thing. Thinking about guidance counselors, and arguments with Aunt Cass, and seeing every millisecond of the punch replayed in his memory- turning, raising his fist, contact, seeing the guy fall backwards- when none of that really matters that much.

Hell, he doesn't even have all the raw materials he'll need for Baymax. He's been wasting _so much time._ And his next step, in implementing the research- towards a second draft of the dummy code.

The chip and AI obstacles, are so much more important than freaking _college._ What was he thinking? He'll do the bare minimum of work, to still be allowed to use the labs. Other than that, none of it matters. Classes- when he feels like it, and when he'll need to get everyone off his back about attendance. Assignments- again, when he feels like it.

Counselors? Hell. That's a joke. He takes the paper out of his pocket- honestly, he kind of forgot it was there. Staring down at the blank lines, where he was supposed to write his name and appointment time, as well as get a signature from whoever was in the counselor's office.

It's just a piece of paper. He jams it back in his pocket, scowling.

…It doesn't _matter._

The air's getting colder. He shivers against the breeze, still gripping the rail tightly. The thoughts don't bring any satisfaction, or resolve. He just feels… cold.

Briefly, he wonders if maybe he's going too far.

…No. Not if it's for Baymax. And the thought hits, unexpected, he doesn't _want_ it, can't avoid thinking about it-

 _-"I will"-_

 _-floating, staring, crying, "-what about you?"-_

 _-"always"-_

 _-holding him close, because he may never see him again-_

 _-"be with you"-_

Hiro bites his lip, and it's a distraction. Thinks about the cold. What he'll need to do next, for his research.

…He doesn't have time for this.

So the rest of the ride is focused. Almost lost in thought- he still hasn't made much progress with the infrastructure of the chip, itself. It's simply too advanced. He genuinely doesn't know how to fix it, yet. An AI, and one with a specific personality, motivation, and set of goals… it's infinitely more complicated from a tech standpoint, than a robot you can control with buttons and a joystick. But at least the work _is_ started, now. He can do this. He just needs to buckle down.

He's not sure how much of his work is one-hundred-percent correct, of course. So he can't- he can't test any of it, yet. That's simply not an option. It's too risky.

Soon enough, he's stepping down onto the curb, and then glancing up at the exterior of the café, and then tromping up the steps towards the kitchen and living room.

Cass is right in front of him.

He doesn't stop walking. God, he just doesn't _care._ She calls his name once, then again, but he can't stop thinking that _it doesn't matter._ She's going to argue, and he'll scowl and get angry and say 'whatever' a lot, probably, like the shitty stereotypical teenager he is, and nothing will change.

Because none. Of this. Matters.

"-at me when I'm talking to you!" It's a yell, sort of, but nothing like Halloween. She grabs his arm, and he turns to face her, and-

And she-

She-

She _sees_ him, and sees how blank his eyes are. Like he's already half-asleep, or like his mind is anywhere but here in front of her. And maybe it's just because she hasn't talked to him face-to-face in a while, or maybe he's just tired, but… she can't avoid the thought that he looks like a ghost. Pale, and sullen eyes, like there's nothing in the world he cares about.

Good Lord.

When did this…

Hiro shrugs her hand away, but not with any force. He's looking down at the floor, now, but he doesn't seem embarrassed, or uncertain, or anything else. He just looks like-

"Hiro," she says one more time. "Are you listening to me?"

-like he's just waiting for her to stop talking. Like he has nothing to say, and nothing he cares to hear.

This isn't her nephew.

It's an awful, awful, _awful_ thought- _how could you think something like that, what's wrong with you, you're falling apart-_ but she tries her best to ignore it, push it away, just like she pushes away the growing sensation that she can't do anything to make this right.

"…Hiro," she repeats. "I- I already spoke with the school."

Nothing.

"They weren't even bullying you. Is that true?"

He just stares at the floorboards.

"I was told," she continues, trying not to let her voice betray how on-edge she is, "that a student was simply talking to you, and then you punched him. No one said anything about him provoking you."

Hiro isn't even looking at her.

"Is that what happened?" she says, and she tries to say it loudly, forcefully, but it doesn't matter- he doesn't care- she doesn't have the energy, anyway, and it sounds weak and broken and _useless-_

"Yeah."

…

Finally, he glances up. And lifts one shoulder, again. As if to say, _that's what you wanted to hear, right?_

She can't think. She can't remember what she was going to say, next. She doesn't know.

What's she supposed to-

"I'm just… gonna lie down," he says, and it's so quiet she can barely hear the words. Then he shifts, and starts moving- so slowly, with no purpose or motivation- until he's walking up the stairs, one by one.

She should call him back, shouldn't she? This isn't- this conversation, it's not- she has to-

…He's nearly at the top. And Cass sees him stop for a second, and reach into the pocket of his hoodie. A piece of paper. He seems to think about it for a second, and then, quietly rips it into five or six pieces, letting them fall on the steps behind him.

…

It's happening again, isn't it? Just like a few years ago. The fights, the grades, the attitude- God, he's _fourteen_. Even in the numb worry and faded heartbreak, she can feel a stab of pity, because the world has thrown so much at him, and then demanded that he meet the expectations set for _college_ students, who've had an extra four years to figure out their lives; and on top of that, he has to shoulder the weight of every 'You're so smart' and 'You're going to do great things one day' and 'Get outta my way, loser,' and 'I'm so sorry for your loss'-

He's gone. He's vanished into the attic.

…Cass is used to the helpless, overwhelming feeling of _what do I do?_ But now, she feels like that dark cloud is covering Hiro, just the same. They're supposed to pretend they're a normal, healthy family. Like they're okay.

Like that will fix anything.

And there's nothing _to_ do, but drink some water, and sit down, and- and try not to think- about who brought him out of this, last time, during the high school phase, who convinced him to get his act together and _try_ , who actually knew how to help him, _who was the one person who COULD help him-_

It doesn't work. Despite her best efforts, she just keeps… thinking. That's nothing new, but now- in addition to the thoughts when she's working, when she's trying to fall asleep, when she sees Hiro skulking up to his room, when Tadashi's friends enter the café (joking, laughing, but with more tired smiles and less often than before- _or is she just imagining it)_ \- now there's another hurdle to deal with, because she's sitting in an official-looking office, the phrase 'discuss your nephew's recent behavior' making her heart sink.

He's a special case, when it comes to academics. Most students wouldn't need to have a guardian involved- however, the only fourteen-year-old freshman in the university's history has a different set of paperwork. Custom, in fact. More echoes of Hiro's high school days, when there had been no shortage of visits to the principal's office. Cass had been naïve enough to think those particular struggles were finished.

Fighting. _Fighting._ A scrawny, messy-haired, voice-still-breaking kid, randomly taking a swing at a sophomore Engineering major and showing 'no signs of remorse', as the dean's assistant sitting behind the desk tells her. And the punishment is… complicated. Because Hiro is, again, a 'special case'. What do you do with the student whose brother died on campus, who already lost his parents- and who's showing up to his classes less and less, and also, who may be one of the smartest people in the building? And ALSO who's having anger issues? And who has, so far, steadfastly refused to see the free-of-charge counselors on staff? And who's at least four years younger than everyone around him?

The situation is awful enough. The real twist of the knife hits when she realizes that, to a point, this situation is _familiar._

And another awful thought, so strong that she can't immediately answer the last question she was asked- it's almost like Hiro's reverting to the way he used to be. Like now that Tadashi's gone, he just- he's flailing, and falling backwards, more and more until- what? Until he loses his grip on reality, and hurts someone? Or hurts himself? Until he simply breaks?

Or… until _she_ does, maybe.

It's another wildly unhelpful thought that she can't get out of her head. Floating around in whispers, never at the front of her mind, just- waiting, almost, like a predator in the grass. And she finds herself driving home, from the school, but she can barely remember walking out of the office and getting to her car.

…

…

…

She wonders if there's a way to stop thinking about it.

It's so hard to pin it down, because part of the dark, jeering, tangled mess of thoughts has _always_ been there. Or at least, for eleven years. And usually she can fight it down, can focus on the other things and put on a smile and run a bakery and all the little moments and places that give life meaning, and all that jazz.

Usually.

But sometimes they're so intertwined with memories that she can't tell which is which, and you can't stop yourself from remembering any more than you can stop yourself from thinking, right? So she remembers, but it feels more passive, like something else is doing the remembering and she's forced to sit through it all over again.

When the two of them were arrested, the following evening was… tough. Of course, she chattered and ranted about how they were turning her hair gray, and how she never expected to need to know _how to raise one teenager, let alone two, thank you very much._ But that was mostly bluster, and she was mostly relieved they were both alright. They both knew it, too, under the embarrassed glances and bruised earlobes. At the end of the day, they were safe; she was sure of it, through and through.

Until Tadashi furtively let her know he was taking Hiro to visit his college, and the two of them sped away into the night once again.

The café was quiet, then. And she busied herself with cleaning, with stocking some of the inventory for the following morning, for going over the event schedule for the week- nothing except some kid's birthday party in a few days, and there was still that guitar player who wanted to perform Thursday night, but he hadn't gotten back to her yet- and tried not to listen to how silent it was.

…

She was a poor excuse for a guardian.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought was changing. It had been something of a joke, once, or at least a wry observation- what kind of situation had life thrown her into, anyway? Suddenly looking after two energetic, bright, dynamic boys who seemed like they could rebuild the world if they wanted to. She always tried to see it as a kind of _aw shucks, I'm just doing my best_ type of thing.

It didn't feel like a joke anymore. And it was harder and harder to forget the raw, unflinching pain that still surfaced whenever she thought about Lee Hamada, the kindest, most patient, most steadfast brother a person could ever ask for- and Kayla, wide-eyed and inquisitive, with a razor-sharp wit and an unstoppable drive to learn everything she could, whom she'd bonded with immediately, feeling more like a sister with every passing day, whispering to Lee _she's a good one, don't screw this up_ and giggling when he turned red and ruffled her hair, like he'd always done since the two of them were kids-

Then, suddenly, they were gone.

And instead of them, Hiro and Tadashi had… her. Just her.

She wasn't ready, of course. She could never have been ready. Although- maybe she should have been? Maybe there was a way to be more prepared, to avoid the mistakes, to guide them through life without all these bumps and growing pains. Every parent always told her there were troubles along the way, but… they'd been _arrested._ And there, in that empty house, she suddenly felt more sure than ever- not a joke, now, not a memory, but a thought that lurked in the darkness of her mind and only ever emerged at night- that she was failing them. Both of them.

No. She was… really, she was failing all four of them. She was letting them all down.

Then Hiro tried to get in the school, and suddenly she could see Tadashi looking at him with such pride, such fondness, and _of course_ she felt the same, of course she was ecstatic and supportive and as proud as anyone could be. But it didn't stop the thoughts slipping through.

 _Tadashi helped him._

 _He's the one who made the right decisions._

 _He's the one making them proud._

She didn't listen, because she knew it wouldn't do any good- and besides, everyone had bad days, right? And they were just thoughts. Even if it was tougher to look in the mirror sometimes, even if baking and running the restaurant seemed more… difficult than usual. Even if she sometimes snapped out of her reverie to realize one of the boys had asked her a question three times.

She was okay. They were okay.

And then.

…

Suddenly.

…

It felt like getting the call. The one she would remember for the rest of her life, haunting in the background for eleven years, from a tired and trying-to-sound-sympathetic secretary of the hospital across town, using generic words like _accident_ and _unknown_ and _next-of-kin_. She hung up after _urgent._

It took twenty minutes to get there. The doctors told her both 'patients' had passed away after ten. She couldn't even tell them goodbye.

They were so smart, so successful, so kind, so tragically young and eager to take on the world- and then, they simply got into a car, and… gone.

Years passed in a moment, and then she was _there_ again- far too quickly- racing through the university, with news alerts, then emergency broadcasts, then frantic texts and calls and voice mails to both of their phones, and she was already running as fast as she could- and Tadashi's friends, the group that brought the equipment to the showcase, they were arguing over where to go, which building, how to get there as fast as possible- and if Tadashi said where exactly they were going- and _I think his phone's turned off- Oh my God- what else did they say about the fire- Hiro's phone is just going straight to messages- where are they-_

And then she was in front of the building.

Police. Fire. Ambulances.

Hiro, sitting with a bottle of water while emergency workers rushed past him and up the marble steps, still fighting the blaze, still looking to pull anyone out who'd been trapped-

The word _trapped_ , echoing over and over in her mind, and she didn't know anything for sure, but that made it worse-

Hiro, looking up at her with eyes she'd never seen before-

…

She was holding him close, crying, asking over and over _where is he, where's your brother, are you okay, are you alright-_ and he never said a word.

…

They told her no body was recovered.

…

Hiro didn't say anything for days.

…

Life goes on.

That's what they say, right?

A black hole, a mess of mornings and nights and everything else, time alone and time in quiet and empty days, and the funeral, and finally opening the café again- and coffee and pastries, music and TVs playing in the corner, receipts and- _October is such a nice time of year in the city, don't you think,_ and she smiled, because Mrs. Matsuda still came by every morning and wanted to talk about the cherry blossoms two streets over- and waking up and walking downstairs and opening the restaurant and closing the restaurant and buying groceries and balancing the books and cleaning and cooking and- and Hiro was as silent as the grave. It was an awful image, but she couldn't get it out of her mind.

And she misses him, as much as she missed Lee and Kayla, as much as it hurts watching Hiro stare out the window with eyes that seem blind, going up to the attic and replacing untouched plates of food, listening to friends and well-wishers who don't realize that they're not helping because nothing's helping, trying to sleep, trying not to dream, not looking at the picture on the wall of the landing, of the camping trip, of the three of them, trying not to think about how he's _gone_ , in an instant, in an evening, one spark of time and suddenly the world is different, and Hiro is different, and she's- she's not different, but she's the same as she was back _then-_

But she didn't have a choice. She _had_ to pull through, for Hiro. She told herself, day in and day out, that she couldn't give in to despair, because right now, she was the only one who could be there, be his aunt, be his- _oh dear God_ -

-last living family. She couldn't fail. She couldn't fall apart.

She could do this.

…She got through it last time, right?

…

 _I'm letting them down._

…

 _I could never live up to them._

…

 _I failed them._

…

 _Maybe they could have stopped it._

…

 _I wish it had been me in that car._

That one stops her, even through the haze, but… is it really that strange? Some part of it, some piece of the misery and self-loathing has been there from the beginning, hasn't it? And maybe it really would be better if it had been her.

Then Lee would be here. He'd know how to deal with Hiro's recklessness and attitude.

Then Kayla would be here. She'd be able to _talk_ to Tadashi about the things he loved, the world of science that Cass could never be a part of.

And Cass herself would be… gone. Sure, they would have missed her, for a while. But… it probably would have been better all around.

And Tadashi wouldn't have-

…

There's a small voice in her mind, urgently whispering that she can't blame herself for that, something _no one_ could have stopped, something that had nothing to do with her- but it's quiet, and everything else is so much louder.

What kind of aunt lets her nephew die?

What kind of _person_ lets family die?

" _-you ever say something like that-"_

It's been months. She's not getting better. The fight with Hiro echoes loudly, every time she passes the stairs to the attic.

It's been months. She's not getting better. There are days when all the hurt and longing and despair is deeper and harsher and more debilitating than she can ever remember- and there are days when she doesn't feel anything at all. She doesn't know which is worse.

It's been months. She's…

…

She's tired.

…

…

…

…

…

…

He's not stupid. He knows he could go too far if he's not careful. A day comes to mind, lifetimes ago, when Tadashi accused him of being 'obsessed' with something- so to prove him wrong, he came up with a thoroughly-researched report on the science of obsessive behavior, complete with powerpoint slides, peer-reviewed academic articles, and a comprehensive bibliography so perfectly organized that his high school professors would have wept to see how much effort he was capable of putting in for the sake of spite, but not for official school assignments.

(Looking back, he realizes he may have overreacted. Spectacularly. Tadashi's exact words were, "If you don't see the irony here, I won't be the one to explain it.")

The point is, he knows that he can get too wrapped up in something. He knows he can let it grow, and grow, until it shoulders everything else out of his thoughts and his waking days, and he also knows that this wouldn't exactly be considered 'healthy'.

So it goes that he finds himself in the garage, with nothing but a faintly blue screen and the quietly humming computers giving life to the world around him, and when he looks past the three or four open tabs with labels like 'Advanced Coding Templates' and 'The Science of AI Recreation' to see the corner of his screen, he doesn't know which is the bigger revelation: that it's already 3:48 AM, or that it's apparently Sunday, not Friday.

Well, Saturday. He thought it was Friday, and that it would be Saturday now that he's long past midnight. What the hell happened to Saturday?

He blinks a few times, and realizes that he's been scrolling down one of the open articles for the last few seconds, and now the relevant information has totally disappeared in a mire of 'related subjects' further down the page. What was this one even about? What was… what was he actually looking for, just now?

He pushes the chair back from the desk, slapping at his face a few times. Cass asked him not to stay up too late, around… yeah, that was about four and a half hours ago. _How's that for some irony,_ he thinks dully, and then, _No, not really, that's not irony, that's just being an idiot._

The wheels squeak when they roam across the concrete floor. He's always meant to fix that. But random little things like that are falling through the cracks more and more, it seems like. And that brings him back to the main problem- the one that's nagging at the back of his thoughts, keeping him from throwing himself completely into his work.

Obsessed. He developed a database of nearly every botfight in the city, once upon a time, even the covert ones.

 _Obsessed_. He devoted every waking moment to building those microbots, over the span of entire weeks.

And then, of course, he became completely consumed by the idea of tracking down the man in the mask, and turning his friends into superheroes, and…

" _-we said we were gonna-"_

He shudders. A few yards away, the screen is the only light in the garage, so it seems to pull his focus in like a black hole.

Anything can be taken too far, right?

There's a sick, squeamish feeling in his stomach, and for the first time in a while, he tries to remember what he actually ate today. He'd grabbed something before class, right? Sort of a 'not suspended anymore' celebration donut. And he'd worked through lunch, because he was nearly on the verge of a breakthrough with Baymax's voice modulator, and… when he'd come home, he'd gone straight to work, so… no, shit, he's thinking of yesterday. So what did he…

God, he feels tired. But he can't stop looking at the screen. Slowly, eventually, he rolls the chair forward again.

At one point, Cass tried to put the back of her hand on his forehead, and he bristled and pulled away while she asked him if he was feeling alright. What did he say, though? She asked him… how he was sleeping, he's pretty sure. She asked that. She… probably asked that. She always says that, says it's really important to make sure you're getting enough sleep, and he… How did he answer?

How'd that conversation end?

For a minute, he's frozen, fingers hovered over the keys, and his other hand has already guided the marker through three pages to get to the university website he's looking for- one of the only ones he's found that has any information at all regarding AI corruption and restoration. He's two paragraphs in before he remembers what he was worried about.

…He'll just have to be more careful.

Yeah, that's it. He'll be alright. If he stops making dumb excuses, and being a complete idiot half the time, he'll- it'll work out. All he has to do is _IT'S TAKING TOO LONG_ keep his head down, and take it one problem at a time _JUST KEEP SCREWING EVERYTHING UP, BECAUSE THAT'S ALL YOU CAN DO_ until he's able to _NOTHING LIKE HIM_ get what he wants. No big deal.

He's smart, and he has Tadashi's advice, and on top of all that, he's doing all this for the best reason he's ever had. Baymax is worth it. Everything else is pretty much secondary.

For a second, he slips into wishful thinking- that he can take a break, and rest, and maybe try to spend time with his friends, instead of focusing all his energy on-

No. Absolutely not.

 _Besides, they're not really…_

Hiro blinks.

…Besides, he's actually making some headway on the text program.

Yeah.

He'll be fine.

…Hah. That's a laugh.

He rubs his eyes again, and breathes deeply, and starts in on the wall of text in front of him.

…

…

…

…

…

…

 _-And I know you don't want to talk to me, either. I get it. Believe me, I'm not expecting us to be pen pals or something.-_

…

…

…

…

…

…

November moves along.

Cass Hamada wakes up, and begins the day. The café is the usual level of busy, and she's kept occupied by training newbies, keeping track of the books, and managing the day-to-day operations.

At some point, she herself takes the time to eat. She doesn't really remember it.

She doesn't see Hiro on his way out the door- just the back of a drawn-up hoodie, hunched shoulders, and a backpack that bumps against the doorway as he leaves. He probably won't be back till late, after the restaurant's closed.

Mrs. Matsuda draws her into a conversation about which tram lines are more efficient. She can't recall a word of it, after the lunch rush dies down.

Nicki can manage the lobby for a few hours before people start arriving for dinner, so Cass takes the time to get some rest back in the house. She feels like she's been needing more sleep, recently. Probably just mild exhaustion from the stress of the recent weeks. Nothing to worry about.

She's startled out of unsettling dreams by the alarm she set- and it's suddenly 5:30, and she needs to get down there as quickly as she can, even though she doesn't feel like she's gotten a wink of sleep.

Nicki is trying not to lose her cool with a customer, who's absolutely irate over getting the wrong kind of soup; a few early diners are already seated, and by the time Cass gets control of the situation, Nicki's frustrated because her replacement was a half hour late, there aren't enough staff manning the lobby, there are half a dozen customers who've already been waiting for ten minutes, and Cass doesn't even _know_ where Ethel is-

So she takes each problem as it comes, and lets the storm of busy work pass. A month ago, she would have been panicked, frazzled, tired, and ultimately satisfied once the crisis was resolved.

…

She accidentally hands Mr. Miyato a receipt instead of his credit card, and takes a good ten seconds to figure out what's wrong.

…

Hikari is sick, so she can't make her shift at all.

…

Ethel arrives, and Cass is halfway through a lecture before Ethel interrupts, confused, because… that's right, her shift wasn't supposed to start until now. Cass had the times mixed up. She apologizes.

…

 _None of this matters, does it?_

…

Someone sets the jukebox to play the same song multiple times in a row. Eventually, complaints force Cass to shut down the machine for the night.

…

Hiro still isn't back.

…

People trickle out over the evening; there's no special event planned for tonight, so the crowd is smaller than usual. She sends the part-timers home.

…

She finds the scarf, again, from weeks ago- where she left it under the register. Was that lady here, tonight? She can't… really remember. She'll have to give it back, next time she sees her.

…

Eventually, the café is empty. Ethel's just finishing up bussing the last couple tables.

…

"-okay?"

She blinks, startled. "What was that?"

"I asked if you're doing okay." Ethel squints at her, still holding the spray bottle. "You seem… out of it."

Of course. Of course she couldn't fool everyone. Why even try?

Cass pauses, then gives her a non-answer about being tired, and just thinking about some things, and thanks her for her concern-

"D'you wanna talk about it?"

It's thrown out there with the same usual bluntness she's seen before, but somehow it's still surprising. But the shock fades, and there's just… nothing. Cass can't even focus on the question. It doesn't bring up thoughts, or feelings, or anything at all. She's blank.

"It's fine if you don't." Ethel shrugs, and goes to finish the last table. "Just thought I'd ask."

…Right.

Cass blinks again. "Once you're finished, you can head home," she hears herself say. "I'll take care of closing up."

"Sounds good." Ethel hits the last table, then straightens and heads to the back room with the storage closet for the cleaning supplies.

So, then, the lobby is empty. Cass is left standing in a quiet, bright, vacant room. Hiro still isn't back yet.

…

The door to the back room closes. "See you tomorrow, Miss H."

"Have a good night," she says, and- and the words sound normal, and warm, and content. So why does she feel like-

…

 _like nothing._

…

It's late, and Hiro still isn't back.

The receipts are in order. The register is in order. The cleaning's done, and… wasn't there something else? There should have been something else.

Oh, right. She needs to eat something. Strangely, she finds herself looking forward to heading to bed, more than anything else.

…

She's too tired to make anything more than a frozen TV dinner.

…

Hiro still isn't back.

And then he is, and he shoulders past her with his eyes on the ground- at least, she assumes they are, but she can't really see his face with the hoodie up like that. She tries to say something, but the energy of calling out the words just isn't there, and she settles for watching him grab a soda from the fridge, and slouch his way up to the attic.

…

Cass Hamada blinks, and realizes she's been sitting on the couch for ten minutes. The TV isn't even on. She was just… sitting here. For no reason.

…

Hiro is, she guesses, either working on homework up there or already asleep. She finishes brushing her teeth, drinks a glass of water, and heads to her bedroom.

She stares at the ceiling for a while, lost in blank non-thoughts, before remembering to turn out the lamp on her bedside table.

…

…

…

Cass Hamada wakes up, and begins the day.

…

…

…

…

…

…

 **-yo dude**

 **-dudebro**

 **-Hiro**

 **-Hirows the boat, and Hiropes some cattle**

 **-wait I got a good one**

 **-and on the third day**

 **-Hirose again**

 **-fred what the hell**

 **-oh good I was running out of names**

 **-where are you man let's make this a proper party**

 **-what are you talking about?**

 **-we're all at the café**

 **-and I assumd you wd be here**

 **-but alas I could not find you**

 **-Hiror there or anywhere**

 **-haha nailed it**

 **-srsly though join the prty**

 **-it's gonn be a good time**

 **-why is everyone here?**

 **-wait wait I got one more**

 **-after Hiropes the cattle**

 **-Hiroasts some beef**

 **-FRED**

 **-for real yo just get out here**

Okay. Terrible, terrible jokes aside, there are like ten really strange things about this.

Hiro squints at the screen- because, honestly, is Fred _actually_ going to just act like things are cool and he wants everyone to hang out? That's either hopelessly optimistic, or completely oblivious to… well, everything.

Everything, in this case, referring to the fact that this AI problem is bringing his work to a goddamn full stop, and he's pretty sure he's made literally no progress in the several _hours_ that he's been cooped up in the garage, today, and if he's not able to-

Hm. Not today. Tonight? No, today. It's not- it's not that late yet. He scowls at his phone, checking the time with a brief glance, then shoves it back in his pocket. Then he realizes he didn't actually see what time it was.

Whatever. The point is, if he's not able to move forward on this coding thing, it's going to be a lot more difficult to stop thinking 'Hey, this may be literally unsolvable', which is just doing _wonderful_ things for his concentration, grades, overall mood, and sleep schedule.

Hah. Yeah, just keep thinking like that. Snark and sarcasm are clearly going to help.

 _I mean,_ he thinks, _at least it's better than HE'S NOT COMING BACK-_

Okay, hell, that was a little more aggressive than he meant to be. He sighs, and rubs at his temples _IT'S TOO COMPLICATED, TOO DAMAGED_ as if that'll help the dull ache lessen, and tries to concentrate on _NEVER BE ABLE TO DO WHAT HE DID_ whatever he was… thinking about before, with the- with _BAYMAX IS-_ with the messages, on his phone, because Fred was telling him about _BAYMAX IS GONE_ how everyone's here at the café.

At some point, he hunched over in his seat- he straightens, now, and pushes away from the computer desk, so the chair rolls partway across the garage, closer to the entrance to the house. After a few seconds, he glances that way.

…He's really thrown by this text. Fred's acting like- like everything's fine? Like he hasn't been sorta-more-or-less avoiding everyone? Like he didn't just get in trouble for punching someone on campus? Like this is just a normal friggin' fall day, and they're gonna have their little group meet-up and hang out and it won't be the most awkward semi-mumbled-silence the greater San Fransokyo area has ever seen?

And none of that explains _why they're here at the café._

…Actually, there might be a reason. He taps the phone in his pocket in a rhythm, and memories sluggishly making themselves heard- Go Go applied a while back, and he knows she's been working here. And he vaguely remembers Wasabi talking about applying; he mentioned something about how he actually likes restaurant work, because he's really good at organizing and cleaning and getting a lot of tasks managed at the same time.

He didn't think anything of it, at the time. And… did Cass mention something about Honey Lemon helping out with some shifts, too?

Hiro narrows his eyes, and imagines them beyond that doorway- if both Go Go and Wasabi are working, Fred's probably making it his mission to heckle them to oblivion. And he made it sound like Honey's here, too.

…What do you know. What are the _chances,_ right? (And suddenly Hiro has a very distinct feeling, that maybe Fred's gonna end up helping as well-)

For some reason, the thought leaves a dark, bitter echo in his mind, and he stands quickly, and the chair pushes away behind him, and- what's he _doing,_ really? Was he going to do anything at all, anything that would- that would matter, or… What _can_ he do?

He looks back to the screen, where Fred's random texts are shining in the dark room. His hand grips the edges of the phone, and- and for some reason, he feels like he could hurl it against the wall. Just… smash it, and break it.

So he does.

It's surreal- one moment, he's clenching his fist until the phone digs into his skin, and then suddenly his arm jerks out, and the phone's flying- until it slams into the wall of the garage with a loud _CLANG_ , and tumbles into the corner.

One more _clack_ of noise, when it hits the ground. And then it's quiet again, except the low hum of the computer, and Hiro's arm is shaking- wow, yeah, he's really kind of freaking out now. He leans forward, and puts his head in his hands, because whatever this boiling, tumultuous sense of panic is, it's different from before- he dimly thought maybe throwing the phone would help, but it seems to have made it worse. He's breathing hard, and there's still a weird buzzing in his arms and hands, so he presses his palms against the sides of his head again, like that might _help_ , of course it won't _help_ , it would never be that easy-

And he blinks, and looks up. Suddenly the energy's gone- there's only a cold realization that he just broke his goddamn phone.

…Shit.

He scrambles forward, only dizzy for a moment before he crosses the room and picks it up to see the damage, and… it's fine. There's not even a scratch on the screen.

The case saved it, he supposes.

 _-because Tadashi bought it for him, on his birthday, and he said that even Hiro's usual brand of nonsense wouldn't break it-_

Son of a _bitch._ The thought makes him almost want to throw it again, and he growls and jams the phone into his pocket before he can. This is so stupid. And the worst part is, he can't just dismiss his little meltdown like the pointless waste of time he knows it is, because he still feels trapped, and helpless, even though he could just walk through the damn doorway and go _talk_ to them, if he wanted, but he doesn't WANT to, because he wants to keep working, but he CAN'T, because the stupid fucking goddamn research isn't HELPING him, and he can't make it WORK, and he can't get him back-

He grits his teeth, and shakes his head, and slaps his hand to the side of his skull all at the same time. A little harder than he means to, and it kinda stings, but it also causes him to bite the inside of his cheek which hurts like _hell._ "Ow," he blurts out automatically, hissing and checking right away if there's any blood, because it sure feels like there is. " _Ow."_

The room's quiet, except for his own breathing. He stands there for a moment, feeling like a goddamn moron, before stalking out of the garage. Hallway. Stairs. Kitchen. Lobby.

There's fire at the edge of his thoughts, sparking and crackling in his arms and legs. He feels like he's about to scream. He feels like he did when he punched the douchebag from Kapur's lecture. But none of that matters, because there's _nothing he can do._ It all just _sits_ there, and he can't _deal_ with it.

He stops when he can see them. He's far enough away that they probably won't notice him, at the edge of the lobby, through the other groups of customers and two or three employees running around- Go Go has an apron on, and she's clearing one of the tables while Wasabi sits with the others. If he's working one of his first shifts, maybe he's on break or something. Fred's saying something that's making Honey laugh occasionally.

She might actually be here to eat. What a concept. And Fred probably showed up just to heckle the others.

He feels like his feet are rooted to the spot. It's not that far, but for some reason, he imagines the short distance like a chasm. And there are some books open in front of them, on the table- they're probably working on SFIT stuff, which, hey, might as well start stressing over his colossal backlog of late work, and the talk with Kapur, and the fight, and the 'think about your future' bullshit. Just throw it on top of everything else. Why not, right?

God, there's just so much shit he can't talk to people about.

…Of course, they've been telling him to-

That thought is caught and replaced by another: they're all helping out, here at the restaurant. Or, they're probably planning to. Isn't that just convenient? There's a suspicion growing in his mind, heavy and chilling- and it only gets more prominent the longer he looks across the lobby.

Part of him wants to shrug it off, and put on a smile, and join them.

…

Almost unconsciously, he analyzes the possible outcome. Go Go's probably still angry with him, after his temper tentrum at Fred's on Halloween- hell, _Fred_ should be the most upset with him, given the bloody nose that's still clear in Hiro's memory. But apparently he's completely over it, with those texts, so- he'd be fine, but Wasabi and Honey would probably still be hesitant to bring up the failed non-mission, and on top of that the idea of talking to _anyone_ right now is making Hiro's head spin.

And at least one of them will likely want to know, 'Hey, buddy, no big deal, but any particular reason you went ballistic and punched someone in the face the other day?' That's not exactly a conversation he wants to start up. And, he realizes with a sinking feeling: if he goes out there, he runs the risk of talking to Cass. So either the group will see how awkward _that_ particular silence would be, or he'd have to put on a fake smile, and act like they're fine, and talk to her about… something normal, he guesses, like…

…

Who is he kidding?

He just doesn't want to, and that's all there is to it. The thought makes him cringe- excuses or not, the truth is that he's afraid, and stubborn, and tired. And he's not going to do it.

Maybe that's just who he is.

So he stands in the doorway, staring across the crowds- from this angle, even if any of the four turned to look this direction, they'd barely be able to see him. Fred's still arguing about something, making his case with wild gestures and occasionally pointing to the ceiling fan, for some reason. Honey looks like she's going along with it and humoring him, or maybe she's joking by pretending to listen closely and solemnly nod with every point he makes. Go Go has to keep switching between heading to another table, and circling back to the group when she has the time to throw in a snide jab that makes Fred lose his train of thought completely; and for his part, Wasabi…

Is looking right at him.

Well, shit, he was wrong about the angle thing. Hiro starts, suddenly nervous; but Wasabi doesn't say anything. He just… looks at him, and then sighs.

…Then he turns back and says something to Fred. It gets him to yell something in response, and Honey laughs, and the conversation goes on.

They look happy.

Hiro still can't bring himself to move. Wasabi _could_ tell the others, or wave to him, or anything else. Of course, Hiro could just as easily walk over and join them. Simple. Easy.

…

…

…

He doesn't move. He doesn't take a single step forward. In fact, he- he sees Wasabi look his way one more time. And then, he turns around and heads back to the garage.

…

…

…

 _What's wrong with you?_

…

…

…

…

…

…

 **-Hey, Hiro.**

 **-I didn't mean to ignore you, or act like you shouldn't join us.**

 **-I'm sorry if it seemed that way.**

 **[]**

 **-I guess I was hoping you would come say hello. On your own, I mean.**

 **-Offer's still open, by the way. I know Fred can be a bit… overbearing.**

 **[]**

 **-I suppose I'm rambling. I've been told my texts are more long-winded than necessary.**

 **[]**

 **-Look.**

 **-I don't know what's going on. I admit it.**

 **-I don't know why you're avoiding us.**

 **-But that's your decision. This was never an obligation, I suppose. No one said the five of us HAD to be best pals for life.**

 **-Again, though, it's your choice. I want you to know that. No one's making you do anything. I think I speak for all of us, when I say- we like having you around. You're a 'pretty special kid', as your brother used to say.**

 **[]**

 **-I probably shouldn't have sent that last one. I didn't mean to bring him up in such a flippant way. I'm sorry.**

 **[]**

 **-Or maybe avoiding mentioning him is worse? I'm not sure.**

 **-If you're not talking to any of us, though, I guess it doesn't matter.**

 **[]**

 **-You're not reading these, are you?**

…

…

…

…

…

…

"Um. Hey? 'Scuse me?"

Cass stops what she's doing, frowns, and takes a few steps towards the lobby, so she can see where that voice is coming from-

Oh. Huh. Well, this _might_ not be awkward.

Rubbing at her eyes, she unlocks the front door so the woman behind it doesn't have to continue waving and gently tapping on the glass. "…Hello?" she says, immediately aware of how tired she sounds. She's not exactly a morning person.

Scarf Lady, however, is. "I was hoping it'd be a little quieter this morning!" she says brightly, somehow sounding slightly anxious and cheery at once. "I, uh, didn't realize I'd be the first one here, haha…"

Glancing over Cass's shoulder to the empty café, she seems to make the connection just a second before Cass sighs. "We're actually closed, today. I'm sorry."

"O-oh!" She's nodding, furiously, like this is incredibly important information. "Oh, I'm- no, I'm the one who's sorry! I shouldn've assumed, that- s'just I know some places are only open in the morning on Thanksgiving, and, like, some are just closed so if you're looking for coffee or whatever then you're just shit out of luck- I guess I kinda hoped- but that's totally fine!"

"Yeah," Cass says, feeling several miles behind this conversation. "I just didn't have a chance to put out the signs and stuff yet."

"Right, right. Course." Why on earth does she seem so nervous? She's acting like she really, _really_ wants to keep talking to Cass, as if…

Oh. Oh dear. _Journalist_ , the paranoid half of her brain tells her, and it's tough not to jump to that conclusion- is that even likely? Would someone play the long con, pretending to be your average coffee drinker over the course of months, just for the chance to gain her trust and worm a story out of her? No, that's- that's crazy. She shakes her head, hoping to clear away the jitters, and then glances back up with a new idea. "Oh- hold on. Red scarf, right?"

Her face goes blank, but then she smiles. "Yeah! Did you- is it here? I kept thinking, it's gotta be somewhere- I mean, I figured I lost it on the tram, or…" She coughs, cutting off her own rambling. "Thank you!"

Nodding back towards the lobby, Cass starts inside while she follows. "I've seen you here once or twice, but I keep forgetting," she says over her shoulder. "And I don't look over the lost and found items nearly as often as I should. But, here we are." It's on a shelf on the opposite side of the counter, buried behind stacks of napkins and paper cups, but the bright color helps her find it quickly. "And by 'lost and found', of course, I mean this one random shelf here." Straightening, she presents the scarf with a flourish- maybe the slightly goofy feeling is just because she's so tired. "Voila," she announces.

"Aw, thanks!" She grabs the cloth with an excited smile, and beams at Cass. "Oh, just- thank you so much! I thought I was never gonna find it. It, um, it was-" The energy falters, just for a second, and she suddenly has that _nervous_ look again. "It means a lot," she finishes lamely, still trying to smile.

O-kay. A little suspicious, but whatever. "Well," Cass says, clapping her hands together like she's dusting them off. "Anything else I can help you with, miss…"

"Taya," she blurts out, eyes wide. "S-Sugimoto. Oh geez, I- never told you my name, did I? I'm so sorry! I've been asking you all these questions, and-"

"It's _fine_ ," Cass says as firmly as she can while still being polite. Honestly, why is this woman so apologetic? "Cass Hamada. A pleasure to finally meet you."

That last part is a little bit of a joke, but it seems to go right over Taya's head as she shakes Cass's hand vigorously. "You too!" she says cheerfully- or, wait, that might be nervous energy again. With her, it's hard to tell. "Anyway, I'll- I'll quit bugging you on a day off! Thanks again!"

"It's no trouble," Cass says automatically. Then, privately, she thinks, "Besides, now I can stop thinking of you as Scarf Lady." Except no, wait, that was definitely out loud. Oops. But Taya finally laughs, so it's fine, she supposes.

And waits. Taya, um, still hasn't left yet. She's just standing there, like she has more to say-

"Okay! Thanks again!" she stammers, then turns on her heel and marches out of the lobby. Cass blinks after her, honestly as confused as she's ever been at eight o'clock in the morning.

So… that was something.

The door closes, and she's able to let out a breath and try to rub the tired out of her eyes. She was _not_ expecting to have to deal with someone so… personable, today, but it's fine. It's fine because now, she really does have the day off, and she can spend time simply getting ready for the small, casual, non-stressful, close-friends-only party.

Somewhat ironically, said party is a matter of practicality.

The café's closed all day, and SFIT is on a break from classes, so Cass's plan fits in perfectly. It's a morning celebration, to give everyone enough time to still make it home for family events, so nothing huge. Just some food that won't be too time-consuming to make. Reason one: to thank Ana, Ethel, Fred, and Gary for their time and help over the last few weeks. In addition to picking up more and more shifts, helping her keep the café running until she can hire more workers, they've also been a constant in the recent months- always ready to greet her, always ready to smile. Call her sentimental, but something about their presence feels safe.

Two: to distance herself from paranoia over the Heroes, obsessing over Callaghan's trial, and worrying about Hiro.

Three: to have something normal. Just- something nice. She reflects on that as they start to arrive, and help with preparations, and exchange the usual greetings. Normal. Okay. She can do normal. This is fine.

This will help.

"Thanks again, Miss H," Fred says, while he's working to get the lobby set up- somehow, he's making an enthusiastic effort out of the simple act of moving a few tables together. "This is gonna be great."

She puts the first few plates down, smiling, about to thank him in return for all his help-

"Not to say your cooking isn't ALWAYS great, because it is, obviously," he adds.

"Thanks, Fred," she says, and-

"And I'm not saying that's the only reason I'm helping, because even if the food WASN'T good I'd still want to chip in!"

"Thanks-"

"And I'm not just saying THAT because I'm hoping to score brownie points and free food next time I'm here!" He's grinning at her like a proud puppy, and it's strange; he's saying the _words_ of someone who's rambling because they're nervous, but with him, it seems like that's genuinely what he wanted to tell her. "I really mean it! And I'm not only saying that because-"

Eventually, she sighs, and holds up a hand. "…Fred."

"Yeah?"

" _Thank you_ ," she says with finality.

He grins brightly. "You're welcome!" he exclaims, completely missing the subtext.

Ethel is carrying two dishes, somehow, balancing entire serving plates on each hand. Clearly, she's picked up this restaurant-ing shtick pretty quickly. Cass is impressed. "You could try being a little less obvious," she says as she passes Fred. "A complete idiot could see what you're trying to do."

He falters, but then a wicked smile appears. "…I'll take your word for it," he says gleefully.

There's a pause. Ethel scowls. "Goddammit."

"Sha-BOOM." Fred catches Gary as he's approaching the table, and tries to give him a high-five; Gary just gives him an unimpressed look, so Fred reaches out and lifts up Gary's hand, semi-awkwardly completing the action himself.

"Language," Cass says automatically, smiling slightly and shaking her head. Then, when Fred sticks his tongue out at Ethel, she adds, "Also, Fred, I don't think you want to go around calling her an idiot. Not when you're standing that close to the counter."

"Huh? What does… that…" He blinks, smile gone, eyes wide- looks back to Ethel, then Cass- "You can't joke about that! You're her boss!"

Cass just stares him right in the eyes. "Who's joking?"

She catches Gary's eye, and he gives _her_ a high-five; with Ethel laughing a few feet away, and Fred making an exaggerated pouting face like an eight-year-old, and Honey loudly mentioning that _she's_ the only one getting anything _done,_ thank you very much- it suddenly occurs to Cass that this is… nice. For a moment, things are good. She's having fun. And, strangely enough, it's with Tadashi's old friends.

A guilty thought sneaks in, twisting its way through the rest:

Is it only because Hiro isn't here, that she's happy?

No. No, she- she shakes her head, which doesn't actually do anything because it's a _thought_ she's trying to ignore, but still. She's getting pretty good at not entertaining feelings like that. Besides, she should… she should see if Hiro's coming, anyway.

 _He isn't._

…

That's not a guarantee, she argues to herself. Maybe this is a chance to turn things around. "I'm just… I'll go find Hiro," she says out loud, awkwardly- she didn't have to say that. There was no reason to say that. And already the creeping feeling is settling around her shoulders- that this is uncomfortable, stressful, _never going to work, won't help_ , and she can't quite shake it.

But she can pretend, so she smiles and starts away. Fred whoops loudly, raising his arms over his head- and Ethel or Gary must give him a patronizing look, because he loudly says "What? I haven't seen him in a while! It's a party! Bunch'a killjoys."

Haven't seen him in a while.

Huh.

Those words bounce around in her head for a while, as she makes her way to the garage- the chatter growing more distant all the while. Maybe… it's possible she was hoping that, if Hiro didn't want to open up to _her_ , he'd still be keeping close with Tadashi's old friends.

She's probably reading too much into one random sentence. From Fred, no less. But- but all the same, she can't help the paranoid insistence that this is just another way things are getting worse.

He's sitting at the computer, of course. _Not like before, when he was mindlessly drifting around the garage on the rolling chair, talking animatedly with Tadashi as they both didn't pretend they were working on homework, and she chided them for leaving dishes in here, and Hiro jumped up like he had an amazing idea- "What if we just order pizza, and they bring it right to the garage, so we wouldn't need dishes AT ALL-" And Tadashi patiently reminded him that they lived in a bakery, and it would be silly to spend so much extra on delivery all the time-_ He isn't moving. She mostly sees just a silhouette, since the screen's so bright and he doesn't have other lights on in here.

Cass flicks the lightswitch on. Hiro startles, but doesn't turn around.

"Hiro?" she tries at first. No response, and for a moment she thinks he has headphones clamped over his ears- but no, that's just the wild tangle of his hair. It's almost more disheartening that he _can_ hear her. "…Hiro, it would- it would mean a lot."

Her throat closes up slightly, before she can finish speaking. But he probably knows what she's getting at, anyway. His fingers stop clacking against the keys.

…She's not completely sure when they last spoke more than a few words to each other. It's been- weeks, possibly. She just can't remember.

Cass glances over her shoulder, suddenly hoping that the others can't hear the conversation. "Hiro, you-" She stops again, and takes a second to gather herself. Then she forces herself to face him, even if he still hasn't moved to look at her. "It's Thanksgiving. Please."

His head turns slightly- she can see one eye, now, but it's unfocused and staring at the floor. He mumbles something, but she can't quite understand it.

" _Please_ ," she says again, and he- he isn't moving. He doesn't even look like he's breathing. For some reason, it seems a bizarre and unsettling picture- her nephew, small and skinny and curled up in baggy clothes like he's trying to disappear, alone and quiet with the harsh light of the screen pulling him away from her.

She blinks, and the strange image is gone- now it's just Hiro, as he's always been, but she's just as afraid. "You don't have to," she says quietly. "But… you don't have to stay out here, either."

She wants to be more firm, and resolute. She wants to set rules, and she wants to understand the best ways to discipline teenagers, and she wants Hiro to _listen_ to her, and she- she wants to be a family. She wants to fall apart and hug him and tell him everything's going to be okay, and never raise her voice at him again- she wants to forget what she said- she wants to forget the things he yelled at her-

But she can't do any of that. So she turns, and takes the first step towards the exit- before she gets to the doorway, though, Hiro finally speaks.

"Wouldn't want to ruin the party."

Stop. Turn around. Look at him, and- and try to process what he just said, because he hasn't said _anything_ to her in so many days, and- and was that a _joke?_ His voice sounded weak, and rasping, and halfhearted and crushed and as despondent as anyone she's ever heard, but he at least _said_ something, so- "You won't," Cass says immediately. "Of course you won't. Hiro, you- it's just your friends. They just want to see you."

"My friends," he repeats under his breath, with the same dejected tone, but now there's a hint of something else. Before she can understand it, he finally stands. He isn't smiling. There's the smallest shrug of his right shoulder, and he coughs once before glancing up at her, then back at the ground.

…So. Progress.

Of course it's awkward, when they see him- the silence is pretty much unavoidable. Cass pretends she doesn't notice, brightly asking Gary if he'd grab a few more utensils from the kitchen, since she forgot. She moves to pull out the chairs, still speaking, going into an anecdote from the night before, when that Satoru kid got half the restaurant to help him look for his lost gloves- it's not particularly funny, or even very interesting. But she hopes it's enough to smooth down the tension.

And there shouldn't even _be_ any tension, because these are Hiro's friends, darn it, and the five of them shouldn't be hesitantly avoiding eye contact with each other for any reason. Cass has just about had it with uncomfortable silences in this house.

Even if- well, even if they seem as hesitant around Hiro as she is. How did it come to the point that it's easier for them to talk to _her_ , than to Hiro?

It's just a series of moments, trying to move to the next without drowning in the uncomfortable quiet. Thanking them again. Ana jumping in to thank _her_ in return, for the food.

Saying grace.

Drawing a blank, for a moment, because she can't bring herself to- it feels like lying. What is she grateful for?

…

You're supposed to focus on the good things you have, right? And not take anything for granted. Just… be thankful, and appreciate the life you're living.

…

That idea used to make sense, but- but now, it seems impossible.

Every time she notices Hiro hasn't said a word since sitting down- and no one's said a word to _him_ \- it seems more impossible.

She's so tired of second-guessing everything, every decision she makes, but the thought's breaking in- this was another _mistake_ , and what was she _expecting_ would happen? If anything, it seems like this is making things worse, because this is proof of how dysfunctional and _worse_ everything is, and- and

"So, we're just gonna ignore the elephant in the room?"

Like a magnet, everyone's attention goes to Ethel. She doesn't act like she's said anything important, only sipping on a cup of coffee and idly reaching to her plate to break off a piece of a cinnamon roll, before taking a bite.

Cass's mouth is dry.

Hiro's tensed up, like he's about to bolt.

"…What do you mean?" Ana asks, tentatively, with a look in her eyes that seems to scream _what are you DOING; this is a VERY BAD IDEA-_

"Duh." Ethel raises her eyes. "That Fred hasn't actually been working, here."

A moment, quiet and startled. And then the air seems to come back into the room.

" _Oh."_ Fred splays his hands on the table, leaning towards Ethel and scowling with the hint of a smile. " _First_ of all-"

Cass can breathe again.

They're magic, she swears they are- it's like a switch has been turned, and suddenly the tension is weaker, and the frozen weight in her lungs is gone, and even Hiro looks like he's able to relax at least a little bit. Ana sighs, and slaps both hands to her forehead in a way that almost makes Cass laugh out loud; Gary has a world-weary expression, and he's futilely saying things like ' _no, just- just stop'_ as he reaches towards Fred halfheartedly. Ethel keeps drinking her water, like nothing's wrong.

"-provide business. A _lot_ of business, and contribute to the positive and friendly atmosphere that the Lucky Cat is FAMOUS for, thank you very much-" Without taking his eyes off Ethel, Fred vaguely waves his arm to slap Gary's hand away, another faint ' _stop_ ' coming from his direction. "Furthermore," he declares, as the weak slap-fight continues, and Ana starts giggling helplessly, "how _dare_ you accuse me of being undeserving of this wonderful meal, when I have in fact _many times_ stopped by to keep you company on your work shifts?"

"For sure," Ethel says dryly. "Distracting employees. How could we ever repay you."

" _Distracting?!"_ Fred repeats, eyebrows shooting upward, voice breaking like a scratch on a record- and Cass catches Hiro blinking and even smiling. God, she- she really, truly hopes he'll spend more time with Tadashi's friends. Maybe she didn't truly appreciate it before, but they're… good, for him. "I generously give of my time and energy- not to mention lots and lots of money, because let me tell you, trying everything in the bakery at least twice really adds up- _not-that-it-isn't-worth-every penny, Miss-Hamada, your-prices-are-reasonable-and-your-menu-is-vast-"_ He says it so fast that it sounds like a single rushed, apologetic phrase, and Ana is positively snorting into the sleeve of her shirt. "And you have the unmitigated audacity to call me a distraction?!"

He really can dive into the extensive vocabulary when he's pretending to be indignant, Cass notices. She can remember Tadashi doing the same, in mock arguments with Hiro- maybe one of them picked it up from the other.

And just like with Tadashi, Hiro's now… laughing.

Well. Not really the way he used to. Still.

"She didn't mean it, Fred," Ana argues, red-faced and clearly trying to stifle her own giggling. "We're all very-" An exclamation, disguised as a cough, but that was definitely another laugh- " _very_ grateful that you've taken time from your… um, busy schedule."

" _Thank_ you. Finally, someone gets it-" Fred pauses, and gives her a suspicious side-glare. "…Are you being sarcastic, HL?"

"I would never!"

And she says it with such perfect, bright innocence, that Cass can't help but laugh along with the others. And it jumps across her mind like a comet, that-

That-

…she's getting what she hoped for. What she hoped today would be like. She can hardly believe it.

" _I_ will, though." Ethel holds up one hand, counting on her fingers. "Let's go over this. One by one. For me, this is literally my _only_ job right now. Wasabi wanted to help because he has experience with food service, and he's pretty much born to delegate, and follow health codes and whatever, and boss people around. And clean stuff."

"…okay, thank you, but why did your tone sound like those were insults?"

"And Honey," Ethel says, "Wanted to help because she's a literal actual angel, and none of us deserve her-"

"I thought it could be fun! Like, a good work experience, and all that! And I wanted to help!"

"You were _surprised_ when you got the first café paycheck. I'm pretty sure you thought you were just volunteering or something." Finally, Ethel raises her fourth finger, raising her eyebrows at Fred. "You, though? You're just here because you don't have much going on, so you decided to take up heckling as a hobby."

Is… this normal? Cass is a little lost, because everyone's still laughing, but… is this just how teenagers get their kicks, these days? Insulting each other and trying to come up with the best put-downs? It's a bit bizarre.

But she'll take this over silence, any day.

"Nope," Fred says, with a smug grin. "You're not gonna lecture me about _aaaaanything_ work-related. I'm not the irresponsible delinquent, here, _Miss Ethel Tomago."_

"No, God, don't-" Gary sounds like a tired parent, and it _really_ strikes Cass as hilarious, but she tries to keep her composure. "Fred, we do _not_ need to bring that up again."

"What?"

There's a beat of silence, once more, before Cass realizes that _Hiro_ asked that. And, he- he wasn't here, when they talked about Ethel's last job. Is he… really that far removed from his friends, that he doesn't know this story at all? Even _she_ has heard this. It's- that strikes her as sad, that she knows things about this group that he doesn't.

The trace of a smile vanishes, and Hiro seems to notice that he's brought the mood down- face going slightly red, he ducks down again, looking at his plate. No, no, not when things were going so well-

"Oh. Dude." Fred leans forward with a gleam in his eye, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Let me set the stage."

"It wasn't that big a deal," Ethel interrupts, pinching the bridge of her nose, as if to ward off a headache.

As if sensing that he's finally gotten her irritated, Fred lights up even more. "So you know that skate shop at the mall? Well, it's not exactly a hotbed of criminal activity, but they do see their fair share of wannabe shoplifters. So, one day-"

"You're way too excited about this," Gary grumbles.

" _One day,"_ he repeats, glaring. "Our good friend Go Go over here happens to be working, and what do you know, oh no, oh geez, SOMEONE is TRYING to STEAL some MERCH."

Hiro's not smiling, now, but he looks… curious, at least. Like he's listening. Like he wants to be here, right now.

…She's missed that.

"And there was a scuffle, and I got involved, so after security took care of it, they fired me." Ethel says with a sense of finality, probably trying to stop Fred's story altogether. "The end."

"Um, _no-_ no," Fred says, in an officious and stuffy tone, like a teacher lecturing small children. "Is that what happened? I don't believe that's what happened. You see, first, one of the other employees tries to confront this hooligan."

Ethel looks like she's given up, at this point. She has her arms crossed, leaning back in her chair, as if to say, _Fine. Whatever._

"Part one. The accusation."

And Fred literally stands up from the table- and Cass realizes he's about to act out the entire story. How much of these relationships, she has to wonder, are formed on embarrassing each other and moderately hurtful insults? It's kind of bizarre.

"Sir! SIR!" Good Lord, he's doing characters now. Fred even changes his voice, going for a nasally, high-pitched sort of sound, and pauses to grab Ana's glasses so quickly that she doesn't have time to stop him. He slips them on, ignoring the _'Hey!'_ of protest from her direction, and purposefully moves them down his nose. "You're _awaaaaare_ that you have to _paaaaaay_ for those, right?" Right away, he takes the glasses off and hands them back to her, then sidesteps and turns so he's facing the other way- "Uuugh, I'm a _shoplifter_ , and I don't care about your _rules,_ because I'm a CRIMINAL! Raaaaagh!" He waves his arms over his head like a monkey, glaring at nobody.

"Is this completely necessary?" Gary asks, sounding even more defeated than before. Ethel has her face in her hands, but Cass is pretty sure she's turning red- for her part, Ana is trying to both clean her glasses and keep them away from Fred, as he turns to grab them again. Fred himself is getting more and more animated, conjuring up both sides of an ever-escalating argument- and Hiro…

Hiro's expression makes her stop cold.

Why does he look so _sad?_

"You cannot stop meeee!" Fred says dramatically, striking a villainous pose with his fingers curled like he's pretending to be a wizard casting spells or something. "You don't have the POWER!" Another quick jump to the side, and he turns about-face- "Hrm, well, _achtually,_ that's where you're wrong!" He moves to push his glasses up his nose, before realizing they're not there- and glances towards Ana ("Absolutely not, Freddy!") before ignoring her and turning back to face his, um, target. "As the _store manager_ , I demand you return those items and leave this establishment posthaste!"

Did she imagine it? It's gone, and- and Hiro's managing a weak laugh, watching the spectacle along with his friends, but… it was…

"Part two! The fatal misstep!"

He's having the time of his life, clearly, going into elaborate detail on just how the shoplifter approached the employee- Gary loudly remarks that he wasn't even _there_ , so why is he adding all these details- and it's about the time when Fred snootily tells him _all questions and comments should be postponed until the end of the performance_ that Cass realizes what's pricking at her mind.

It wasn't just a sad look. It was… Hiro was looking at them like he was _losing_ something. Like he was about to break down and cry.

As if, for some reason, he was never going to see them again.

"Aaaaagh! I am struck! I mean, stricken!" Fred cries, still using the bizarre nasal voice for the manager. "My nose! You've destroyed my nose! I'll never smell again!" Ethel herself is laughing along, now, and Cass finds herself torn- part of her wants to be happy, to latch onto this moment and _enjoy_ it, to be a part of the laughing and the friendship and the sense that _things are going to get better-_ but the rest of her can't hold onto that, because it'll just slip through her fingers just like everything else has, in a haze of _nothing lasts forever_ and _Hiro's getting worse_ and _you don't deserve to be ha-_

"Hey." Softly, Ana reaches out and puts a hand on Cass's, tilting her head and speaking quietly. "Are you alright?"

What?

Cass is-

"I'm fine, but- thank you," she says with a grateful smile.

 _why, though, why did she say that when it's not true-_

"-and I don't know if we have worker's comp!" Fred bellows, pinching his nose and making his voice even more ridiculous, before swooning with his other hand splayed across his forehead. "Oh, lack a day! Woe is me! Won't someone stop this ruffian before he continues his reign of terror!"

She's fine. She's okay. She needs to just breathe, and calm down, and- and Ana's still looking at her, concerned, like she doesn't believe her- and she _shouldn't_. But- but that's alright. She's alright.

Cass closes her eyes, and tries to slow her racing thoughts.

"Part three: _retribution_."

Fred's downright eloquent when he has a good story, and for a while she's able to distract herself. Shrug it off. Pull back from the- the strange, gripping place her mind has gone recently, where it feels like she's falling deeper and deeper and she can't focus on anything good anymore. Now, though, Hiro's watching and listening to the story- because that's right, this is the first he's hearing of it, and he even laughs a few more times when Fred does an impression of Ethel, complete with ninja poses and pretending to be chewing gum at all times. His one-man-fight-scene, portraying both Ethel and the hapless shoplifter who gets flipped over a counter, is as energetic as it is bizarre- and Gary actually leaps out of his chair and grabs Fred's arm before he can enact the jump itself, which Cass is grateful for, since it looked like he was seriously considering throwing himself over the bakery's display case. Ana's laughing again, occasionally leaning over to give Hiro commentary, like ' _that's not what happened'_ or ' _he made that part up'_ or _'I'm pretty sure there weren't any actual Klingon war cries at any point in the story'._

"Says you," Fred says, looking like he's trying not to show how tired he is from all the jumping around. "You weren't there. You don't know."

"Was there," Ethel mumbles, and Cass is pretty sure she's had her face buried in her hands this whole time. "Can confirm. No Klingon."

"Fine, but it would've been way more awesome if there was." Fred turns back to Hiro. "So basically, cut to our bumbling perp getting manhandled out of the building by security with a coupl'a fractured wrists, the entire mall giving Go Go a standing ovation for her bravery-" (Ana sighs and just shakes her head.) "…and the skate shop's heartless and unfair policies demanding that she be fired, because _technically_ employees aren't supposed to be total badasses and save the day."

"Language," Gary says halfheartedly, earning a 'Sorry, Miss H!' from Fred. She's about to smile, and say it's fine, but… something about this group has her feeling mischievous, again, in a way she hasn't in a while.

"Lifetime ban, I'm afraid," she says without thinking too much about it. "In fact, I better take your picture for the 'Do Not Serve' sign. Hiro, can I use your phone for a second?"

Fred yelps, apparently distraught over the prospect of no more pastries- and Ana's eyes light up, while Gary gives her a look like he's impressed and surprised. Ethel glances up from her hands and says "Not bad," while Hiro's laughing, again, with a smile on his face Cass hasn't seen in a while.

Don't think about it. Don't worry about it. Don't fixate on the jarring, impossible combination of panic and happiness, because everything's fine and everything's falling apart and Hiro's okay and Hiro's not okay and she's not okay- don't- don't think about it.

Just take it in.

Breathe.

And she's almost able to stop thinking, _so close_ to seeing the café around them and the smiling faces and the smell of hot coffee and the way, for the first time in a while, her nephew looks happy- but she can't. One thought stops her, and freezes the world and grabs her by the throat so it feels like she can't breathe.

Hiro's smiling, and his friends are all around, and it's a holiday, and they're celebrating, and-

 _He should be here._

"-so basically the moral of the story is, bureaucracy is the death of freedom in America and Skate Unlimited has no Thanksgiving spirit," Fred finishes. "Thank you." He bows, with Ana clapping a few times in such a way that Cass can't tell if it's genuine or sarcastic.

"Wasn't this months ago?" Gary says. "So… it has nothing to do with Thanksgiving?"

"Addendum: Wasabi has no Thanksgiving spirit."

"Hey!"

She wants to keep laughing, just- enjoy the party, simply be _happy_ , and she can't let that one single thought drag her down again, like it has so many other days- getting so wrapped up in it that she can't see anything else- how different this would be if he _was_ here, this holiday, these last months- and how Hiro would be different. Maybe she'd be different, too.

She almost jumps when Hiro speaks up again. "I don't know… I think the moral of the story is that Fred thinks Go Go is a badass." Hiro shrugs, with a small smile.

"Yeah, that _was_ strange." Gary raises an eyebrow, and turns back to Fred. "Somehow you went from taunting her, to telling the story as if she's this awesome hero."

"Excuse me, 'as if'?"

Ethel goes from grumbling and morose to indignant so fast that Cass can barely keep up with the conversation. "I think we're missing the point here," Fred insists, like he can tell he's losing his crowd. "My original argument was-"

"That you're a freeloader."

"Yes. I mean, no! Ugh!" He scowls at Ethel. "Don't change the subject!" He throws another determined, arms-waving challenge that's quickly batted back, and the jokes keep going, with almost no break- Gary occasionally trying to keep the peace, while Ana takes the opportunity to actually eat instead of arguing nonstop. Even Hiro's chiming in every so often.

And she can feel it happening, again, the way it slips into her thoughts like a creeping fog-

Sitting here, watching them… she can almost _see_ him. Hear him, even. And it's almost tempting to wonder if they don't even miss him, if they're doing just fine, if they're moving on like nothing ever happened- but that's an _awful_ thing to imagine, and blatantly wrong, and she knows- she _knows_ they- they feel it too, so-

So how can they… be like this?

And why can't she do the same?

…Well, so much for her plan to keep herself distracted. She can feel it like the onset of a headache- going back to that place, slowly becoming more and more weighed down like a ship taking on water. So she blinks a few times, and brightens up her smile a bit, and tries to focus in on the next wild story- all the while knowing that, once the group has left the café, she's going to be in for a rough night alone with her thoughts.

She doesn't want to be alone.

 _Stop it, don't think about it, push it away- just-_

She snaps back to the room around her. "-the _stupidest_ moment I've ever been a part of," Ethel says firmly. "Don't make me think about it. I've been trying _not_ to think about it."

"I think you mean _greatest,"_ Fred says immediately. "I think it went _better_ than we could have hoped it would."

She wasn't paying attention, so she doesn't know what exactly they're referring to- Gary chimes in, "You don't get to say that, though. I mean, it was _your_ fault that-"

"Absolutely not!" Indignant, Fred huffs and folds his arms across his chest. "If anything, it was everyone's fault, except there _was_ no 'fault', because it was awesome and a wild success and I'm disheartened beyond belief that you don't remember it that way."

Distractions. A smile, even if there's nothing real behind it.

… _Screw it_ , Cass thinks. "Sounds like the beginning of a story to me," she says, clearly enough that it's heard over the beginning of another argument.

There's a split second of quiet, and then Fred _beams._ "So, picture thi-"

"No, no, no, you're _not_ telling this one." Gary frowns, holding up his hand. "We'll be here forever."

"Oh, come on!" he whines. "It was such a great time!"

"It really wasn't." Turning to Cass, Gary gives a reluctant sigh. "Alright, so… we're putting together this plan. And-"

"Last fall! Long weekend!" Fred's basically yelling, like he's running out of time. "Nobody on campus! Late at night!"

Ethel has her hands on her forehead again, like she's warding off a headache, and Ana sort of rolls her eyes- but for his part, Gary ignores Fred completely. "The idea was, we're gonna decorate this one giant lobby, in one of the academic buildings. Tons of people go through it. They're all gonna see it. Right? Highly visible."

" _You don't understand the value of properly explaining the setting!"_

"Shut up, Fred. Anyway, Fred makes us all promise we'll be there, because he's gonna need help for his-" Gary looks embarrassed as he pauses to make air quotes with his fingers. "- _grand masterpiece_."

" _YOUR STORYTELLING IS MEDIOCRE, AND YOUR PRESENTATION IS UNINSPIRED."_

Ethel's mumbling between her hands, but it sounds suspiciously like ' _swear to God'_ and ' _punt you through the window like a football.'_ "And he keeps telling us it's the perfect crime," Gary says. "Because he doesn't technically attend, right? He's not a student, so, his words- 'how would they ever know it was me?'"

"I still maintain that was pretty airtight logic," Fred says, somehow not running out of breath.

"For you, maybe!" Gary retorts, with the hint of a grin. "You didn't have anything to lose, but we _did._ "

"Risks versus rewards, my friend. You can't tell me it wasn't worth it!"

"It wasn't worth it," Ethel interjects.

And Cass-

-laughs, because it's funny, and she can't help herself. For the umpteenth time today, she feels like she's switching back and forth- the dark place, back to laughing and mindless jokes, spending time with Hiro's friends- Tadashi's friends- people who made a commitment to spend time with them, who've asked _her_ on more than one occasion if she's doing alright, people who genuinely want to help-

But is this, what help looks like?

It can't be, right?

"What were the… decorations?" she says, and it sounds odd and out-of-place to her ears, like someone else is saying it, someone who shouldn't be here. Who shouldn't be a part of this conversation. This is all wrong, and she's _don't think about it push it away don't think about it-_

Gary pauses, like he's trying to remember, and before the others can fill in, Ana leans forward with a thoughtful expression. "Let's see… there were definitely Scientology pamphlets," she says, the cheery brightness in her voice somehow making it sound even more random. "A lot of posters saying 'Happy Birthday', for no real reason. And those huge cutouts of… who was it again?"

"Einstein, right?" Gary says, just as casually. "But with the screws in his neck. And stitches all over him and stuff."

" _Frankeinstein!_ " Fred says loudly. "I swear, you people wouldn't know jokes if they were blown up on giant cardboard figures and staring you in the face. OH WAIT, THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED."

Cass has several questions about that, but apparently there's no time. "So we finally get there," Gary says. "And it's mostly dark on campus, but obviously there are lights at all the entrances, even when no one's there- and I'm thinking more and more that this was a _terrible_ idea-"

"Hmph. That's not saying much. You think _all_ my ideas are terrible."

Ethel finally looks up. "Oh boy. Fred, I have some bad news for you."

"We're never getting through this story," Gary mumbles under his breath, then does his best to continue. "Now, I don't even KNOW how Fred got a key to that building, after everything was locked down-"

"What? No, Go Go had the key! I was just the ideas guy."

Cass sees Gary just about fall out of his chair, he's turning around so fast. "What? Go, are you serious? How'd _you_ get it?"

"Irrelevant," she says with no change in her expression. "Continue. Or don't. In fact, let's not even tell the rest, because it only gets stupider from here."

"I'll take over! Me! Ooh, pick me!" Fred's holding up his hand, wiggling in his chair like an excited preschooler. "You suck at telling this story! Tag out! Tag out!"

Gary takes a deep breath. " _The point is,"_ he says with a determined glare. "We're creeping around this stupid lobby like a bunch of extras in a horror movie, and we start putting up all this nonsense because _I don't know why_ , and the exit's kind of around the corner, right, so you can't really see it from where we are, so I keep feeling like we have to bolt at any second because we can't see the door- and none of us know what we're doing except Fred, and it's so dark that we keep tripping on stuff, and and Fred apparently decides _hey_ , now's a great time to have some snacks, because he brought _snacks_ of all things on this super secret prank escapade, so he's munching on freaking Twix or something, and it's REALLY LOUD, and those wrappers are probably ending up all over the floor, so every time we step anywhere, it's even LOUDER, and we're still trying to put stuff up on the walls in the dark, because Tadashi's paranoid that turning on the lights will get us caught, even though there's no one in the buildings-"

He continues. Cass, though, is… numb. A single moment, frozen, like she can't- move, can't focus, can't… she wasn't even picturing Tadashi on this crazy trip with them.

But of course, he would be. This was… last year. And they _saw_ him, talked to him, made memories- they probably know a side of him she never did, and she- she could never bring herself to _ask_ about him-

Gary's talking a mile a minute, like he's trying to make sure Fred can't shoulder his way into the story. "Now we've been trying to put this stuff up for a while, but since it's so dark they're just kinda all over the place- but then we hear yelling. And it's-"

"No, it wasn't yelling, first," Ana says. "More like- I think we heard things getting knocked over?"

"I remember we _thought_ it was yelling. Ended up being-"

"No!" Fred yells, alarmed, waving his arms toward Ethel. "Not yet! We're not there yet! No spoilers!"

"Now, Tadashi-" Gary turns to face her, with only a momentary slip where he seems to think, _Maybe I shouldn't be telling you about him,_ before he shakes it off and smiles again. "He's thinking he was right, and there IS a security guard here or something, and we're totally getting expelled. So of course we want to leave, and we're panicking, and about to run out of there-"

"But!" Fred leans forward, almost buzzing with energy. "The noise is coming from _the way we came in!"_ He sounds like he's telling a ghost story or something, with dramatic whispers and a huge smile.

"And we can't actually _see_ the entrance, remember- so we have to start going further in." Gary's getting more invested, now, and Cass thinks that maybe retelling this is actually… fun, for them. Maybe it's good.

Maybe it's okay for her to listen, too.

"So we're literally hiding in this random hallway, hoping nobody comes around the corner," Ethel says, and now even _she_ has the ghost of a smile. "And Fred's laughing his head off, not quietly at all, and Wasabi's panicking-"

"I was fine! I kept a level head in that situation! Tadashi's the one who was losing it!" Gary's words break into a chuckle at the end. "I remember, he said- ah, how did he put it-"

" _Fred, I swear, if we get kicked out for this, I will actually kill you,"_ Ana says suddenly, and it's a pretty decent impression of Tadashi's voice- though it's bizarre to hear it with such a violent statement. As the others start laughing again, Ana adds, "And he _never_ made jokes like that! So it sounded like he was totally serious!"

"He was! That's why it was so funny!" Fred manages, barely-repressed laughter making his shoulders shake.

"And Honey Lemon notices there's no light, or anything, so it can't be someone with a flashlight- and no one's turning on the building lights, so it's probably not faculty, right?" Gary's talking faster now, gesturing with his hands and getting caught up in the story again. "And we _have_ to get out, somehow, but we're not gonna creep through the rest of the building and get totally lost, so we're gonna head back the way we came. And hey, maybe there's no one there, right? Maybe we heard wrong, or just- heard something randomly fall over, or-"

Now he's laughing, too. Ana is coughing into her hand, like she's trying to hold it back, but her face is getting red- while Fred doesn't try to hide it at all, only getting quieter because Cass suspects he's running out of breath. "So we get back to the lobby," Ethel says, now the only one who seems to be able to speak coherently. "And it's still dark, and we can't see anyone-"

"I wanna tell it!" Fred says, almost like he's begging- they're going back and forth, so fast Cass can hardly keep up.

"-where _all_ those stupid decorations are proudly looking over the room," Gary interjects, starting to laugh too-

"-and then there- I think Go Go saw it first, right?" Ana tries to continue, but she's interrupted-

-more mumbling, Ethel shaking her head, ' _this is gonna sound so fake, they're not gonna believe us-'_

"And then!" Fred's laughing so hard his eyes are shut tight, and he's grabbing the edge of the table, trying to babble his way through. "We're looking around, trying to make sure there's no one there, and we don't hear any- any voices or anything, but there's-"

"A coyote," Ethel says casually, finally looking up towards Cass. "Just wandering around. Like it was no big deal."

"IT WAS A COYOTE!" Fred shrieks, nearly at the same time. Then, at last, his laughter dies down, replaced by a look of utter betrayal. " _Go-ooooo!_ How could you?! I was building up to it! It was my moment!"

Cass was so caught up in their crazy antics, she actually didn't really hear the punchline- now, though, she processes it, and… honestly, it's not that strange. They wander into the city sometimes. But strangely, she's finding everything _else_ , like the arguments and their contagious laughter, far more entertaining than the story itself. "For real," Gary says, leaning closer with that same smile, "It's got, like- this kinda dark and splotchy fur, right? So we don't see it right away. And then, we see its eyes, and they're kinda shiny, but that's ALL we can see-"

"Oh, that was _awful!_ " Ana gasps, like she forgot that detail. "Ugh, I think I nearly jumped out of my skin!"

"Wasabi's scream scared me more." Ethel kind of shrugs, again, and Cass can't help but laugh at Gary's expression.

"I certainly did NOT," he argues. "I mean, maybe I yelled as a warning, to you guys, because I wanted everyone to be safe, so you're _welcome-_ " The indignant frown breaks, with the last word, and he falls back into chuckling, too. "Hey everybody, there's a coyote in the lobby, so, you know, be careful, just a heads up-"

That one gets Fred gasping for air, again, as if he's hearing it for the first time- Cass can see pretty clearly how he's the instigator, when it comes to storytelling and wild ideas. "Nah," Ethel says. "That wasn't a yell. That was, like, glass-breaking levels. I'll take 'shriek', or 'scream', or maybe 'warble'."

Gary reaches over to halfheartedly shove her shoulder, but he's laughing so hard he gives up halfway and lets his hand sort of wave at nothing, which is apparently hysterical to Ana- Fred, though, has his eyes light up again. "Oh, but that wasn't even the best part! Do you remember what Tadashi said when he saw it? He-"

Not frozen, this time. Just… it's tough to tell exactly what she's feeling. This whole situation is so surreal. Laughing. Thinking. And then, suddenly, Tadashi- as if he'd never left.

"I couldn't tell WHAT he said," Gary says at last, wiping at his eyes. "Just kind of, like, more yelling."

"No, no, I remember it clearly." Dramatically, and with another mischievous grin, Fred looks around to the others. "He said- and keep in mind, this is _Hamada_ we're talking about, and I've never seen him so much as flip someone off in traffic-"

"Fred!" Ana says, still giggling, but eyebrows raised in alarm. "Don't actually _say_ it!"

"He just screams out- I don't know what he _meant_ to say, maybe just a stream-of-consciousness thing-"

"No, don't!"

"OH, FUCK A SHIT!"

Once again, Cass doesn't really process it immediately. But Ana has a shocked-horrified look on her face, looking over to her like she's afraid Cass will be angry- surprisingly, _Gary's_ the one who's laughing the most at that one, resting his head on his arm on the table like he doesn't have the energy to stop. Ethel stands up from her chair, marching over to Fred- "Alright," she says, grabbing his shoulder and pointing toward the exit with mock severity. "Out. Gone. You're done."

"What? I couldn't just NOT tell the story!" Fred insists. "And you can't kick me out! You barely work here! _The café isn't even open!"_

This is too strange. Everyone's yelling. She's in a sitcom. _Tadashi said that._ They're- telling stories, about him. Like he's there, and like nothing's off-limits. Like it's fine. _He never told her anything about that night._ Of course he didn't, he's a college student- he _was-_ he's allowed to have his own life, and goofy secrets with his friends-

She's-

-laughing?

"Fred, Cass is _right here!"_ Ana scolds, but the smile's coming back for her, too. "That DEFINITELY breaks the language rule!"

"I'm sorry," he wails, pulling back while Ethel tugs on his arm, like she's genuinely going to throw him out. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I was just telling it like it happened- _Ow!_ Go, seriously, stop it!"

"Oh my God," Gary wheezes. "I didn't even know that. That's amazing."

"Ms. Hamada, I am _so_ sorry-"

Ana's worried apology is cut short. "So of course," Fred continues, half-dragged out of his chair but struggling valiantly, "Whenever he's around and we're frustrated with something, we just- we'll just kinda throw it out there, like it's no big deal- and he'd get so _mad-_ "

" _That's_ where that came from?!" Gary yells, incredulous. "I thought you were just saying it because it sounded stupid!"

"That's exactly why I said it!" Fred says. "And that's why he hated it so much!"

Now Ana's laughing again, too, while Ethel returns to her chair, shaking her head like a disappointed teacher in a class full of troublemakers- Fred's guffawing as well, like he wasn't the one telling the story to begin with.

"I can see why," says Cass.

It all stops. Not instantly, but over a few seconds. The laughing dies down, as one by one, all four of them turn to look at her- and she can see it slowly dawning over them, that this may have gone too far. Fred, in particular, looks like he's suddenly regretting this whole thing.

…It's such a strange feeling.

Maybe, any other day, she'd feel like this was all wrong. Inappropriate, at least, and at the worst, horrifically insensitive. But for some reason, it all seems… _unhinged_ , now, like there are no rules left. No barriers. No point trying to figure it all out- the thoughts coming back- all a tangled mess- push it all to the side-

So-

Why not laugh, right?

"I mean," she says, like she's hearing someone else, like she's not even _here,_ like any of this makes any sense- and feeling just a bit like a bright-eyed student again- "Grammatically, it doesn't make any sense."

A moment. Just a few seconds of quiet.

Fred absolutely _howls._

From there, it's kind of a blur- more laughing, talking, joking, yelling, looking at Cass with shock and respect, and it turns out the story wasn't over, so Fred keeps- talking, and it's- this is- she's- _nothing, nothing, NOTHING, push it all to the side, laugh, don't think, nothing, nothing, DON'T DESERVE TO BE HA-_ If she's following the story, now, they have a mess on their hands, because not only did they break into the physics wing at night, but they somehow led a coyote inside? And the blame's on Fred, for the candy wrappers and stuff- "Guys, no, dogs don't even _like_ chocolate, do they?"- and Gary's insisting that he should have been more careful, and this coyote somehow became a symbol of his crazy antics- "But that doesn't explain how it got in, in the first place!"- and Cass has the sense that they've argued about this before- "I don't know, maybe someone left the door open or something!"- but Ethel shuts him down, because no, they definitely had to unlock it when they came in, and that building was shut down for the weekend- and Ana chimes in, right, we had to… unlock it… -"Oh my God, guys, I think I left that door open-"- and it's a new round of shock and laughter and Fred crowing 'VICTORY' at being vindicated, while Gary just gapes with his mouth open- "Are you serious? HL, what were you thinking-"- and she's trying to defend herself through the laughing, because at least she didn't take a _selfie_ with it, which turns the brunt of the jokes back to Fred- "-a photo for posterity, sure, but from a safe distance! And maybe I happened to be in the frame, but that doesn't prove anything!"- and the story keeps _going,_ like there's simply no end, because they ran out as fast as they could and luckily it didn't chase them, but that meant it was _still in the building_ so Ana made an anonymous call to Animal Control and part of the building had to be closed off the following Monday because the lobby was a mess of shredded decorations and workers trying to clean up the area, and _nobody officially knew what happened-_

She shouldn't be, but she's entranced, by this point, and it's… actually kind of fun? _That's wrong, you shouldn't- you're- you shouldn't be-_

"-one part left! You forgot the best part!"

"Fred, you said that ten minutes ago-"

"No, I mean it this time!" Fred waves his arms like he's trying to get everyone's attention. "So with the building all trashed and stuff, and no idea who did it, they decide they'll have one of the class officers give a speech about appropriate school behavior, right? And, like, the technicalities of being on campus and in the buildings when class is out? And what's technically trespassing, and breaking in, and super illegal?"

Ana gasps, smiling again- Ethel raises her eyebrows, remarking, "Oh, shit, I actually forgot about that," and Gary just shoves his hands onto his face, like he can't take anymore-

"So," Fred continues, now facing Cass. "Who do you think they chose to give this official, very formal speech at an assembly the next day? What student representative best exemplifies model behavior, good grades, and school spirit?"

There's a tired chortle from Gary's direction. He's _shaking_ , he's laughing so hard.

"The one and only," Fred gasps, trying his best to stay upright. " _Tadashi Hamada!"_

Cass laughs along, and-

And-

 _-stories, reminiscing, hearing more about him, stories she didn't know, laughing, memories, this is ALL WRONG, push it away, laughing, wrong, awful, push it away, distractions, happy, tired, lost, and-_

-she wants to-

-she wants-

She wants to keep talking about him.

They're laughing, and- they're happy.

…

Cass blinks.

…

She suddenly realizes she hasn't looked to see Hiro's reaction, this whole time. He's been so quiet, she almost- forgot he was here-

 _Crack._

Hiro slams his fist down on the table.

The sound makes her jump, and when she turns, heart racing, he's already standing. For a second, he simply stares down at the table in front of him- the room has gone quiet. He looks like he's in a trance. He doesn't blink.

Finally, Cass finds her voice. "Hiro," she says shakily. "Wh-"

He tries to spin away, but his foot catches on the edge of his chair. Stumbling, he hisses in pain, and she reaches out to him-

He doesn't hit her. He just- his hand moves, swiping at the air, like he's trying to force her to stay away. He's definitely trembling, now, and when he finally meets her eyes, he looks… haunted. Embarrassed by the outburst, certainly, and completely lost now that all eyes are on him- but more than anything else, he looks _trapped._

Someone speaks up, behind her. It's Fred's voice, she thinks. "Hey, man, are you-"

"Shut up," he says, almost automatically, but he hasn't looked away from Cass yet. When he realizes his mistake, he awkwardly looks to the ground, but he's still got his hands curled into fists, looking like he's ready to fight someone. His mouth twists, like he's about to speak- to Cass, or to the others, she doesn't know-

When suddenly his eyes close quickly, and he dips his head so they can't see him. Then, he starts his way to the stairs, as if nothing had happened.

Cass doesn't say anything, because-

She _wants_ to, but-

 _Just call him back, tell him to apologize, yell at him, ask him what's wrong, because that'll solve everything, won't it, like Halloween night all over again, this time with an audience, and they're just as scared just as lost just as concerned but it doesn't matter because she can't fix it can't help him can't do ANYTHING-_

The thoughts lock her into place, and she must look like a fool, simply standing here in complete silence while Hiro stalks away. The others are probably staring at her, or at him, and they- what must they be thinking? What must _Hiro_ be thinking?

…

Does she know him at all?

She realizes he's already gone, as if he was never there. She's just looking at an empty staircase, and of _course_ she's beginning to tear up, but… they're not falling, now. It's not the torrent of emotion that it could be. It's only… cold. Numb.

She can't help him.

She can't say the right things. Maybe there _are_ no right things. Maybe this was doomed from the start.

Or… doomed from the moment Tadashi-

"Miss Hamada?" Ana's voice comes just before a tentative hand rests on her shoulder, but even so, Cass jumps slightly, startled out of her thoughts. "Would- you like us to…"

Blinking, trying to clear away the haze, Cass looks past Ana to see that Fred and Ethel are already quietly gathering up a few dishes. "Oh," she says blankly, then again, as she struggles to focus. "Oh. No, I- that's fine. I can take care of it. Thank you, though-"

"It's no trouble-"

"Really, you don't need to-"

Their words tumble together, and Cass pauses at the same time Ana does, until they're both hesitantly waiting for the other. After a moment, she awkwardly tries to smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I… I think I'd rather…"

Ethel is halfway to the kitchen, plates in hand and raising an eyebrow at the two of them. Fred has already put some of the dishes back on the table, and now looks helplessly between the others in the room- the silence is so uncomfortable that Cass can almost pretend to distract herself from thinking about Hiro. "It's fine," she says, half on instinct and half simply to fill the quiet. "I'll just- get this…" Avoiding Ana's eyes, she starts to gather the dishes.

The _clink_ of the ceramic is awfully loud, it seems. From the corner of her vision, it looks like Gary flinches at the rough sound, but she can't really tell.

…She'll get everything cleaned up, and then- then-

 _What then? What comes next? What can possibly-_

Then, they'll all have enough time to get home for the proper celebrations. That's the important thing.

 _Talk to him talk to him talk to him talk to him talk to him-_

"If, um, if you'd like-" Gary has taken a step closer, uncertainty on his face. "We can- we'll leave. If you- yeah."

He's giving her an out, clearly, and Cass's first thought is _Alright, thank you, and I'm sorry for the- for everything, I'll probably see you soon, I hope you all have a nice Thanksgiving-_ but those words are paralyzed in her throat, and she realizes she doesn't want them to leave. She can _talk_ to them. When they're around, things aren't so… She can…

…

No. She can't.

Far-off, like it's not really her saying it- "Alright," she says, with another smile that's trying too hard. "Thank you. And I'm sorry for, the-" He nods, and Ethel looks over to the stairs, and Ana is looking at the ground. "For everything." Cass is saying these things, and there's something funny about that, because she doesn't want to say them. "I'll probably see you soon," she continues, and maybe she's rambling now, but that's alright, because none of it matters anyway, right? "I hope- you all have a nice Thanksgiving," she finishes, words drifting away like smoke rising up.

…She's such a liar.

She starts back to the kitchen in silence, and even though she half-asked them not to, Ana and the others help her with the dishes until everything's cleared from the lobby. Ethel has already gone, it seems- she probably slipped out when Cass wasn't paying attention. Fred leaves shortly after, seeming lost for words- a rarity, as far as Cass knows. Gary is closing the door behind him when Ana approaches her once again.

…

Cass can't listen too closely, this time, because it hurts. When Ana quietly says she's sure Hiro will come around, and that she's sorry again, and- and when she says that if there's _anything_ they can do to help, or even if Cass ever needs someone to talk to-

 _Someone to talk to, about how Hiro is pulling away from her, and nothing she does can bring him back, and she can't stop thinking about how badly she's failed, and how she's desperate and tired and angry and if any of them were still around they'd be ASHAMED of her-_

She wants to break down, and _talk_ , about everything- more than before, at the cemetery- and Ana is waiting for her to say something, but… she stops. And thinks. They've already done so much for her, and- and she's done nothing but make them more miserable, and squander their hard work. She can't confide in Ana forever. She can't keep worrying everyone. Of course, Ana would never see it like that- but that's the problem. She can't keep taking advantage of their kindness. She has to stand on her own, and-

They've already done so much. Even now, they're still trying to help her- and that's truly admirable.

More than anything Cass has done, anyway.

She has to stop abusing their kindness. She needs to stand on her own. "Thank you," she says warmly, and- and Ana smiles, because-

"That means a lot."

-because she buys it, and because Cass is convincing.

"I… I will. I'll let you know, whenever…"

 _Liar_

"I will," she finishes, repeating the words. "I promise."

 _Liar_

Ana is still smiling-

 _Liar_

And soon she says goodbye, and heads for the door-

 _LIAR_

And Cass is alone.

…

She can almost hear the thought, like a voice behind her, sneaking through the air and curling around her neck.

 _Oh,_ it seems to say, _what a terrible mistake you've made._

Because now, this house is quiet- and empty- and numb- and afraid- and stumbling, almost falling, before she can sit down, and- and her head in her hands-

 _She could have helped you._

And there's nothing she can do, now, except try to breathe normally and try not to start shaking again and _not think, not listen,_ and… try to…

 _But you lied._

Wonder what she'll do, with the rest of the day. Thanksgiving night, with- with the only family she has, unwilling to speak to her.

 _You're broken._

Holidays. Celebrations. An awfully bleak trend, so far- and the black, biting, humorless joke of a thought- she dreads to think what Christmas could possibly bring.

Ha. Ha ha.

 _And you deserve it._

…

…

…

…

…

…

"What the hell are you doing in my room?!"

On some level, he gets it. Just a sort of 'fuck it' moment, and Go is pretty much _famous_ for those- she _would_ just follow him, right up into the bedroom he shared with his dead brother. Why not, right? Not like that's creepy or weird or really screwed up.

God, he's mad. He was mad downstairs, but now? Holy _shit._ He doesn't think he's ever felt like this.

"Simple. I want to talk." Go Go has the nerve to just stare at him, like _he's_ the one who needs to answer for something. "You're being an asshole, and I want to know why."

"I'm being an asshole? Right. Yeah. Sure." He stomps forward. "Well, feel free to go back downstairs and keep talking about how _goddamn funny_ Tadashi was. 'Cause that's fine, right? That's all fine. Everything's cool. Me, being mad, _that's_ the weird thing about all this."

If that bothers her, she doesn't show it- she just gives him an unimpressed glare. "Let's see," she says. " 'Hey, guys, I wish you wouldn't talk about my brother like that.' 'Oh, sorry, Hiro, we'll stop.' There." She spreads her arms out sarcastically. "Wow, that was so difficult."

Hiro's nostrils flare. He hates, hates, _hates_ that he's so short- right now, Go Go only looks mildly annoyed, instead of intimidated. "Go, I'm serious. Get out of my room."

"Sorry." She crosses her arms, giving him her best narrow-eyed, _I don't give a shit_ face. "Not happening."

"Fine. Get out of _Tadashi's_ room."

Some part of him is aware that he just used his dead brother to make a point, and get in a zinger in an argument, and that it was a really awful thing to do- but the rest of him is pretty freaking gratified to see Go Go flinch, and open her mouth, obviously not having a clue what to say. She glances around the attic, and he can only imagine that it's hitting her all at once.

"That's what I thought," he grumbles, and turns his back on her. The computer chair squeaks when he sits down, sorta ruining the mood, but whatever. "Just- leave me alone. Please."

He boots up the computer, more for the appearance of ignoring her than any real plans. Behind him, he can hear Go Go sigh and swear under her breath. She's probably loading up another retort, and he'll just snap right back at her, and _God_ , can't she just leave instead of dragging this out? He already feels like garbage after the blowup downstairs-

"…Why?"

He stops. "What?"

"Why," she repeats. When he looks at her, she's just… waiting. "Why should we leave you alone?" He frowns at the word 'we', and Go Go rolls her eyes. "Well, you're not just talking about me, right?"

"No," he says, but he can't think of anything else, so he just injects as much venom into the word as possible.

She doesn't blink. "So now's your chance. Once and for all, just tell me why you're snapping at everybody, why you look like you're about to pass out half the time, and hell, while we're at it- why in God's name you're not letting us help with Baymax."

That steals the air out of his lungs. Almost in an instant, he's so angry he's _shaking_ , and he has to look away from Go Go so he doesn't start yelling right then and there. "I already told you," he says through clenched teeth. "It's a lot of technical stuff, and I have to be _careful_ , or else it could go wrong. It's-"

"God- _damnit_ , Hiro, remember what were we doing when you _met_ everybody?" she snarls. "We were working on projects, and fine-tuning machines that were incredibly complicated and dangerous as _shit_ , and we ran tests, over and over, until they were perfect. Maybe you were too busy tripping over yourself trying to impress Callaghan to notice, but we're _good_ at this, okay? We've been doing this whole 'science' thing a lot longer than you have, and if you think for a second that we're too stupid to help, then-"

"I don't think that!" he says, scrambling to piece his thoughts together in the face of everything she just said. "I- you're not-"

"Then what?" Go Go demands. "Seriously, what brilliant reason do you have for not even talking to us? About anything? It's like you've been ignoring everyone since Halloween. Can you _please_ just tell me what's going on?"

Shit, he can't- he's bad at this. He's never been able to keep a cool head when he's arguing, and it's getting pretty literal, too, because his hands are still shaking and he swears his heart is pounding with everything Go Go says- because he's so _mad_ about it, but he can't stop thinking that she's _right_ about it, too, and it makes it impossible to figure out what to say-

"Is it Baymax? Is it Tadashi?" She just _says_ that, like it's no big deal, and Hiro could punch someone right now. "News flash, Hiro- we were his friends, too! I know it's not the same, but- but he-" For a second, she actually freezes, and the angry tone dies down into something more halting and pained. "He wasn't _just_ your brother, alright? This is- it's bigger than just you. And I- I can't-"

He's so lost. His head is swimming, and he can barely think of anything at all to fire back- all he can hear is what Go Go's saying. "And I can't figure out," she finally hisses, "how that _genius_ brain of yours thought it was a good idea to start freaking out at the only people who have a _chance_ of knowing what it's like."

God, the hate is so strong he can practically feel it in his blood. There's no one in the world he despises more than himself, because- she's right about all this, but all he can think is _how dare she say that_ , like there are two different voices fighting at the same time- it's like there's a black hole in his chest, and his heart and his lungs are getting swallowed up- _what the hell is wrong with you, genius,_ he thinks, and he has no idea where it comes from, but he accepts it because it's _right_ and he _deserves_ it.

 _Stop it,_ he thinks, panicking- but that wasn't a thought, that was out loud, and Go Go heard how pathetic he sounded, and she's frowning down at him- he can't look up, still staring at the floor, but he's sure she's looking down at him with disgust- "Look," she says, still spitting the words out. "I'm sorry, and- and I know things have been awful. I get that. Shit, I mean- I get that I _don't_ , exactly, but- I'm sure it's really, really impossible."

"Stop," he wheezes, because every word is falling down on him like hailstones, or red-hot ashes, and she's even trying to be _nice_ this time so why is he still so mad- about everything- like it's trapped in his skull and he can't get rid of it, buzzing and screaming and choking-

"But I miss him too. And it's the same for Honey, and Wasabi, and Fred- we're all hurting, and we're all scared, and we all wish more than anything that we could just wake up and have him back." She's quieter, now, but steady. "But we can't, and we have to figure out how to deal with that. And I know it's not fair- that he died, or that any of the bullshit with Callaghan happened, and-" She pauses. "And it's not fair that you got the worst of it."

" _Damn it,"_ he seethes, grabbing at his hair- _this should be helping,_ goes the sing-song voice in his head. _But it's not, because you're too messed-up, and it's no one's fault but yours-_

"But please. Hiro, I just- I want to help. We all do."

"You _can't_ ," he chokes out, and he _didn't mean to say that_ but it slipped out anyway-

"Wrong answer," she says stubbornly. "There's no way you're going through this by yourself, alright?"

- _What are you so scared of-_

"You're stuck with us, and we're _going_ to help you, even if it seems like everything's shit right now, and we're _going_ to get Baymax back."

- _yellow eyes, staring-_

"What if we don't?" he whispers, and it hurts-

- _the gloved hand pointing at you-_

"What? What'd you-"

" _What if he's never coming back?"_ He hisses the words, and his head swings up to finally face her; she takes a step back, confused, and once the words start _he can't stop them._ "Look, he- the chip's damaged. And I can't- I can't _fix_ it, because the AI was all Tadashi, and there's no way I can- it's like- I keep trying, and working, and there's _nothing_ that can-" It's been a secret for a month and a half, but right now he simply can't access the part of him that _cares_ about that. "No matter how hard I try, I can't get the coding right, and if I screw it up _once_ , then _Baymax is gone forever."_

She tries to cut in, but he can't hear whatever she says- he's still rambling, still spouting out words that hurt and make him feel sick but he _has_ to say them. "And I keep thinking maybe it was insane to ever think I could recreate every little detail perfectly, and it was insane to think I could fix the chip in the first place, and- it was insane to think we could ever be goddamn _superheroes_ , just like it was fucking insane to try to go after Callaghan-"

- _because you're just as bad as him-_

It stops him in place, stops his breathing, and- and he slams his hands against his head, like that will somehow push back the pressure, because it's all spinning around and it just hurts, over and over, and he can't stop it- "I- I just- can't- I _can't,"_ he manages, not looking at her anymore. "I can't fix it, and I can't get him back-" God, he probably sounds like he's crying again- maybe he _is_ crying-

He doesn't know if he was going to say anything else, but it sputters and fades to nothing in his throat. Somewhere along the line, his breathing switched to hiccups, fast gasps of air like he's about to choke, but he's pretty sure he's not choking, it just _feels_ like he is, and- and Go Go is-

…She's quiet. When he finally looks up, her eyes are wider, and she hasn't moved a step. "Hiro," she says, so quiet he can hardly hear. "…Why didn't you tell us?"

His fingers dig into his knees, and he's still staring at the floor. "…Because I'd just told you guys that I _could_. The same day."

It's so quiet- he'd swear he can hear her breathing. No, wait, that's his own- still ugly, and rasping, like he's just run a marathon. Dimly, he realizes everyone downstairs probably heard his shouting match just now. Once again, he doesn't really care.

"So what?" She's talking quietly, but there's still an edge to her voice. "You thought lying would be better?"

He wants to leap up, stand up to her, make his point and scream again and- do _something_ , but-

"Look, if- if you let us know what's happening, with- all this, then… maybe we _can_ help." He wants to look up again. He can't. "Not just Baymax- like, everything. How miserable all this stuff can be. It doesn't have to be me- you know Honey and Wasabi are great with this kind of thing."

…She's still on that. He can't believe it. After everything, she still thinks _he's_ important enough to argue about? Like his feelings or whatever _matter?_

She sounds like Cass.

She sounds like Baymax.

She- she sounds like-

"Just stop," he says again, but this time it's exhausted, and firm. He can't keep doing this. He's finished. The anger has died down, and there's nothing left. "For once, just- stop."

His hands curl into fists again. "Stop what?" Go Go challenges. "Trying to help?"

"Exactly." His mind is buzzing once more, but instead of filling him with pain and rage, it's just- it's nothing. It's a million thoughts, treading the same beats over and over again. He's been acting weird. He's worrying everyone. They're afraid. They're trying to help. He's hurting. He's fine. They're right. They're wrong. It's all so _loud_ and so complicated, that he can't even think for a second, can't figure out what he's doing wrong, can't stop thinking about everything that happened, and- masks and gloves and robots and that _moment,_ over and over and over, why does it _hurt_ so much, why is he scared to think about it, why is it happening again- why was he so angry- why is he-

" _-never should have let you-"_

Go Go hasn't said anything else, so he blinks at the ground and continues. "All of you. I'm- I'm done. It doesn't matter." Even to his own ears, he sounds vacant and dead. "You're always acting like- like you're-"

"What? Always acting like _what?_ " Her words are sharper now, and he's pretty sure she's moved closer. "Think really carefully about whatever you're gonna say next, kid genius." It sounds like a curse when she spits out the last words.

He can't pretend anymore.

And it's when he's thinking over his next words- when he's realizing that he's going to say them, and he won't be able to stop them- that Go Go leans down and glares again. "Quit playing around, Hamada!" It's almost another yell. "We're a team, remember? We're your _friends_ , so it'd be great if you could start _acting_ like it!"

That's it. Something breaks, and- and anything faking, anything keeping up the act, is gone completely. Hiro doesn't think, anymore. It just slips out like somebody else's words.

"No, you're not."

The sound fades instantly, but it feels like an echo, like it's reverberating across every inch of the attic, pulling at his insides. Go Go isn't moving, mouth slightly open like he just punched her in the stomach. Finally, almost looking like she's trembling, she narrows her eyes. "I'm gonna need you to run that by me one more time," she says in a low voice.

 _-flying out through the wreckage of the ceiling-_

Hiro stands up. Finally, he looks her in the eyes.

 _-leaving them stranded-_

"You were _his_ friends," he spits out, and it feels good to finally say it, because it's been rotting his mind for weeks, but it feels so _awful_ at the same time. "Not mine. Right?"

"Hiro, what the hell-"

-has to say it, has to let it out, simmering and rotting and burned black in the back of his thoughts, always there, always guilty, _never should have-_

"You helped me with the showcase, because he cared about it," he says, words like poison in reverse, falling from his lungs. "And when he died, you felt sorry for me, because he probably told you I didn't have many friends except him, so you would have felt guilty if you just ditched me, so all of you kept _calling_ and _visiting_ because you thought _he'd want you to._ "

She's closer now, staring at him with eyes like lightning. "You know that's some bullshit," she says quietly.

"And after, when we were chasing Yokai. Maybe Fred wanted to anyway, but the rest of you- no one wanted to go after him. You told me it was an awful idea. So why'd you do it?" Hiro's rambling again now, spitting and slurring words together because they can't get out fast enough, can't escape too quickly, can't stop hurting. "Some random kid joins your little group, and you're suddenly doing whatever he says? Of course not."

 _-leading them to the island-_

"We could have died, but you all went along with it."

 _-dragging them into this mess, scraping by the edge of death-_

"Because you thought you owed it to him, right?"

 _-Yokai, pointing, staring, attacking-_

"The least you could do, would be to help the poor, sad little brother, _right?"_

 _-saying they'd be heroes and then turning around and trying to-_

The thought almost crosses his mind, that he had no idea it was _this_ bad- like he's shocked that everything in him was so dark, and so angry, and so destructive- But that's not true. He knew all along. Especially after Halloween night.

Maybe this is just… who he is. And he can't stop it. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to.

Go Go's about to respond, eyes blazing and a finger jabbing toward him, but Hiro cuts her off. "Even now," he says loudly. "All four of you just happen to be helping out at the café. What are the chances, right?"

"Look, Hiro, you-"

"I'm not stupid, Go." There's such a sense of _loss_ , piling up and crushing him- even though he's finally telling the truth. "Even now, you're still trying to do what you think he'd want. Like you owe him. That's the only reason for all this."

"Shut up."

"Hell, I just met you guys a few months ago!"

"That's not-"

"Don't _lie,_ alright?" he screams, and it almost feels like some of the burning pressure is let out- makes him want to keep screaming- keep fighting- keep that anger- "And now you're gonna pretend we're all _best fucking friends_ all of a sudden?"

There's an instant, where she looks… lost. She even looks scared. But it's gone in a flash, and she stands up straighter- eyes burning- "Not everything's about him, all right? We're-"

" _Of course it is!"_ Feels good. Feels dark. Feels like he's finally, finally telling the truth. "It's ALWAYS about him!"

"Hiro, don't you get it?!" She's screaming right back, inches from his face, like a storm about to break. "We're trying to help YOU!"

"THAT'S _YOUR_ MISTAKE!"

Go Go jerks back, eyes wide like she recognizes those words.

…

He's breathing hard, imagining that he can still hear the words echoing off the walls.

…

He's done fighting. He's done agonizing over every possible response, and feeling miserable all the time because he keeps making the wrong decisions. He's done trying to sift through all the bullshit emotions and thoughts that never make any sense.

The attic is quiet again, and Hiro glances to the stairway. "Now," he says, quietly and rasping, now that his voice is scratchy and lowered. "…Get out of my room."

He doesn't wait for her. He heads back to his desk, still shaking- and he doesn't think. He doesn't worry about it all. He doesn't let guilt start slowly building up, creeping in at the edges until it's all he can think about.

He _doesn't._

And he sits down, pointedly ignoring her and booting up his computer.

…

She'll leave, eventually. Maybe she already has. He doesn't turn around.

…

Don't think. Don't think. It doesn't matter.

…

"…Who the hell do you think you are?"

Quiet. Restrained. But- still, the words sound almost _trembling_ , like she's barely holding back. When he turns, Go Go is staring at him with a look he's never seen before. "You think we're using you? Like a replacement? Or, worse- we're trying to _be_ his replacement, for you?"

Maybe, he realizes, she's finally telling the truth, too. "No," she says flatly. "No, you're not even close, genius."

She takes a step forward. "Some guy in a mask got our best friend killed. You had a plan to go after him. And after everything Tadashi told us about how _goddamn smart_ you're supposed to be, we actually thought you weren't gonna be a complete _idiot_ about it. THAT'S why we followed you."

"I-"

"No. Shut up." She's not that much taller than Hiro, but right now she seems to tower over him, poking a finger in his chest. "You want the truth, Hamada? I didn't want anything to do with you. I thought you were some whiny, punkass nobody who didn't give a shit if your brother got thrown in jail for something YOU did. I thought you were just a brat. And people comparing you to your brother all the time was just _insulting_ , because you were nothing like him."

"But Fred and Honey dragged me along. And yeah, you're right, they kept saying we should visit, and send you those messages, and try to 'check up on you' once in a while; whatever that means. Great job on that, by the way, hiding away from everyone and acting like it didn't matter what you did- what any of us did- like you didn't need us, and like everything was gonna be fine, like he can just vanish and nothing's gonna change." Now _she's_ the one who's rambling, spitting out words faster than he can keep up, almost like she can't slow down- like she's been holding onto this for a long time. "So I thought, why am I wasting my goddamn time on this kid? He doesn't care. He'd rather hole up in that stupid café and never talk to anyone, than actually _try_."

He can breathe. He knows he can. So, why does it still feel like-

"And you know what finally hit me? You know why I agreed to this whole freak show? Honey always said you needed us, and you _deserved_ help, and we had to at least _try-"_ She narrows her eyes. "But personally, I think that's bullshit. I stepped in, because- I-"

Go Go pauses, blinking, and Hiro can actually see her eyes shining. "I realized that if _my_ brother died, I know without a fucking doubt that _Tadashi would have been there for me._ "

He honestly thought he was done, that all the emotion and all the pain was spent; but now, right this second, he doesn't know which of the two people in this room he hates more. He can't think. He can't fully process everything she's saying. He's so tired. He wants to- he- he can't-

He feels the way Aunt Cass looked, screaming and raising her hand.

"…Shit, Hiro, I guess you're right." Go Go looks away briefly, rubbing at her eyes. "It _was_ for him. Congratulations, you figured it out. You win."

When she takes her hand away, she looks at him again- this time, without the burning anger from before. "But we chose to care, alright? We all made a decision- as a team- that we'd be there. We made you our problem. We made a _choice_."

No, not anger. Not anymore. Just- disdain. "But you said it yourself. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe we chose wrong."

Slowly, Go Go turns and heads for the stairway. But just before the first step, she stops. "Push everyone away, if you want," she says over her shoulder. "Hell, give up on Baymax and drop out of school for all I care. But don't you dare say you're doing it because of _him."_

…

She's gone.

He's breathing.

The attic is silent, as if- as if none of that conversation happened. Like he stalked up here after the yelling match in the café, and- and that was all. Hiro feels numb, like… no, it's closer to say he doesn't feel at all. It's as if he's not there.

Vaguely, he realizes that he's walking towards his bed. He sits down, and- and just stays there, upright, resting on the edge of the mattress and staring towards the opposite end of the room. The partition with Tadashi's bed behind it. It's been closed for a few months, now.

 _(just the same as Halloween- you never use Tadashi to make a point, ever- but now everyone's done it-)_

Go Go's words are filtering through his mind, but he can't focus on any of them. He can't listen too closely, or focus too much- it'll just burn more.

He's so tired.

 _(unforgiveable things you can't take back-)_

…He wishes they would just leave him alone. Everyone. Including Cass. But- at the same time, he knows that wouldn't _help_ , because- because nothing will help. Because it doesn't matter what he does or doesn't do. He's just- he's-

 _(you hurt people, and don't even care-)_

Now it's his own words, blaring over and over in his memory. Just one word, actually.

 _-mistake-_

 _-mistake-_

 _-mistake-_

Finally, he leans back and falls onto the sheets. He closes his eyes, and- and nothing. The memories don't change. Go Go's words don't change. The look on Aunt Cass's face when he said- said that-

It's all still there, still burning, still poison, and maybe there was some part of him that thought _saying_ it would solve everything? Like that would make things better?

No. Of course not.

It only showed all of them the _real_ Hiro.

His phone doesn't vibrate, or ring, and the last thought before he drifts off to sleep is that- he kept saying he wished they would just leave him alone.

Maybe now, he's finally getting his wish.

…

…

…

…

…

…

At some point, he stops checking the group messages.

…

…

…

…

…

…

Dreams are just dreams, and Cass doesn't need to worry about them.

Dreams are just dreams, and they don't matter.

Dreams are just dreams, and-

 _-and Abigail Callaghan is dying in a burning building, and Cass looks down because she has to check and see if her hand is holding the match-_

Cass wakes up.

…

…

…

The legal process is a complex beast.

Robert Callaghan's actual crimes, at the end of the day, are… subjective. And controversial. The trial, which will not occur for months yet, becomes quite the citywide news story, given that he was such a well-known public figure.

Accusations, and technicalities, fly. Attempted murder? Arson? Terrorism? Armed robbery? Terms like 'supervillain' don't clear up matters, either. San Fransokyo hasn't ever dealt with crimes like this, and as such, nobody seems to have any idea how to construct a sentence.

…

She _needs_ to stop listening.

News reports. Rumors. Cheap tabloids at the grocery store. Against herself, even though she knows it's not helping anyone, she keeps wanting to learn more- the details, the possibilities, the different angles that change the story.

Robert Callaghan was an esteemed professor at a local, yet nationally-recognized university.

Robert Callaghan was a loving father.

Robert Callaghan was a sociopath.

Robert Callaghan took her nephew away.

(And it feels like he's the reason she's losing Hiro, too-)

The story that captivated their city stays with her, and she finds herself hanging on every development. It was so, so strange, hearing that a masked man had attacked a tech magnate's celebratory ceremony for the opening of a new building- and that a team of superheroes had brought him down, defeated him, paved the way for his arrest- and the revelation that this man was the same man, presumed dead, from the very fire that also took Tadashi- the further discovery that _he had likely started the fire-_

(And her doubts, her paranoia, her awful and traitorous mind whispers things that she can't let herself listen to- _Hiro was gone that day, where was he, why was he missing so often while the Big Heroes were active, and now they've been silent for months, and he almost never sneaks out anymore- why did he have that newspaper clip in the garage- and if the villain was responsible for the fire, for Tadashi, wouldn't it make sense that the heroes were JUST AS CLOSE TO HIM AS SHE WAS-)_

The worst part of it all is the feeling of cloying panic, of worry that twists and spins around until she's dizzy and sick, because she can't stop _thinking,_ and- she can't avoid the terrifying thought that maybe this is what crazy feels like.

Maybe this is what Robert Callaghan felt like.

It's not just that she hates him, for what he's done. It's more complicated than that. She finds herself wondering, late at night, when the darkness is at its most pressing- was this the way he'd felt, when he'd lost his daughter? That particular detail slipped out to the press almost immediately. And while she tells herself it's coincidence, that losing a child doesn't magically make _anything_ he did marginally less despicable… still. It hurts. Everything about this hurts, and it never stops hurting, and in spite of her anger, in spite of her righteous grief- she can see how that hurt would drive someone to madness.

Of course, Abigail Callaghan is still alive.

And she can't help feeling… that simply isn't fair.

It's an awful thought, sickening and inhuman, but it's there. There with the rest of the darkness. What kind of world gives Robert Callaghan a chance- even the slightest possibility- of seeing his daughter again, when…

It drives her to tears, more than once. Only one time does it drive her to fling a ceramic plate at the wall of the kitchen, hours after the last customer has filed out of the café; _better than glass,_ she thinks dully, _because it's only a few shards instead of a million slivers_ , but at the same time she's staring down at the cracked pieces and something in her mind and in her heart and in the awful, awful pain screams that breaking a plate isn't enough.

And that scares her.

Almost as much as the stray thoughts, the ones that appear without warning, that aren't rational, the ones that can't be controlled- the ones that wonder, since Callaghan got his daughter back after he tried to kill the man who took her away, maybe _she_ should go after _him_ and then Tadashi would miraculously come back-

That's insane. She knows that's crazy. She tries not to think it.

…Besides, he's in prison. _But he's going to go free one day, maybe even soon, and maybe someone should JUST GET TO HIM BEFORE HE CAN HURT ANYONE ELSE, JUST IN CASE-_

Awful, violent images are playing out in her mind, daydreams and scenarios that end with murderers in prison and children avenged, and she's _trying_ , she swears she's trying so hard to _not think about it_ but that's impossible because you can't stop yourself from THINKING, because if you could, then she would have stopped all the thoughts a long time ago, the thoughts like _Tadashi is dead because of me_ and _hating Robert Callaghan feels stronger than anything else in the world_ and _I can't take care of Hiro._

That one especially. Because that- that one isn't irrational at all, is it?

…She's not okay. And if Hiro needs someone stronger, if he needs someone who can _help_ him, then she- she has to- she would need to-

She can't think about it.

But she has to. Isn't that what being a mo- being family, is really all about? Doing what's best for your children, even when it hurts?

But she _can't think about it._ So days go on, and she sees Hiro falling apart, and she knows he can see her doing the same- and every time she looks at him, every time she feels guilty for being glad that he's here with her even though that means she's glad Lee and Kayla _died_ , she hurts more. And, paradoxically, it's as if she feels… less. Like a wound, scarring over and going numb.

…It's the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and it's different, because today she's not thinking anything at all. There's no one in the restaurant, in the afternoon gap between the usual lunch and dinner rush, and she's finishing up the sandwiches to slice into segments and throw in the fridge for the evening, when something in her simply stops.

And suddenly, she can't look away from the knife in her hand.

It's somewhat dull, and not particularly shining. Medium sized. Something of a hassle to use on the sandwiches, but she hasn't had time to go buy another recently- there's lettuce partway down the blade, and the seeds from a tomato dripping off the tip.

…Today, she isn't thinking anything at all.

It's just a feeling. The feeling like the look in Hiro's eyes every time she's seen him, these last months, when he thinks no one is looking and he lets down the act- when the light seems to fade in his eyes, and he shrinks down like the very air in his lungs is gone, and she can't bring herself to even _try_ to comfort him because what could she possibly _say,_ and how incredibly and despairingly terrible is it that the three people in the world they _both_ loved more than anything, are all gone?

She's still looking at the knife.

And she was wrong, she realizes, because she _is_ thinking, and the last word keeps echoing over and over without a sound, _gone, gone, gone,_ and it falls out of her ears and onto the blade of the knife, _gone, gone,_ and from there- from there it could go anywhere, to her heart, or her stomach, or her wrists-

She drops it with a gasp, stepping away, hands pulled back like she was burned. The knife clatters off the edge of the counter, falling to the floor.

…

She doesn't want to think like that. But she's so tired. It doesn't feel like there's really a choice. She can't just decide everything's fine.

She closes her eyes, and bites back a sob. Wrapping her arms around herself, she feels her back hit the wall of the kitchen, and slowly, she falls down until she's sitting against the base, and- and her head falls forward- so _tired,_ but there's nothing she can _do_ about it- and the tears break through, muffled wailing behind her arms, curled up on herself so the boys don't hear.

…So Hiro doesn't hear.

Another image fills her mind- a giant, a colossus, towering above the world itself, so huge and so intimidating that she can't even _imagine_ overcoming it, something that could crush her no matter how hard she tries to move on. Or a valley, deep and dark and unknown, that no one- least of all her- could cross in a million years.

Tadashi. Hiro. Callaghan. The heroes. Lee. Kayla.

Cass Hamada.

…

She notices, eventually, that she's stopped crying; there's another memory crowding her, pushing her until she gets to her feet unsteadily and _doesn't look at the knife doesn't let herself look down_ moves toward the counter, where her purse is resting with papers sticking out of the front pocket, and where- where there's one single piece of paper, hidden among the rest, scrawled with a number, and a name, and…

One more name jumps to mind, separate from the list in her mind.

Ana Luiz Ramirez.

She holds the note in both hands. Even though she's not facing it, she's painfully aware of exactly where the knife fell behind her.

 _(but part of her mind is thinking of another piece of paper, a headline, suspicion, heroes, villains, fear, Hiro- a single stupid piece of paper that's somehow a symbol of everything swirling together and getting worse and worse, repeating in her mind, KREI INDUSTRIES- HEROES- DISASTER-)_

No.

…She can't keep thinking that way.

Cass closes her eyes, and chokes back the last sniffling tears from her voice, and picks up her phone.

…

…

…

…

…

…

Callaghan doesn't show up in the dreams. That, apparently, is reserved for Yokai exclusively- never saying a word, never taking off the mask. He- it?- is always there, and Hiro has no idea why.

But in his waking hours, Hiro finds himself thinking about Callaghan all the time.

Cass would probably worry, honestly. He's sure she wouldn't want him to be this focused on his brother's… well, not 'killer', but something awfully close. For some reason, his mind keeps replaying those moments. Four times Hiro talked to him, face to face.

His first visit to the lab.

The showcase itself- when Callaghan must have been secretly planning to start the fire, even while Alistair Krei rambled on about business opportunities.

Two times since then.

One.

"…Baymax. Destroy."

Two.

"Abigail is GONE."

He can picture the man's face, free of the mask both times. He shivers, turning over in his bed and pulling his legs up to his chest. Callaghan didn't just look scared, he looked… hunted. Like he really, truly believed Baymax was about to kill him.

And then on top of the tower, when Hiro was trying one last time to get him to see reason. The word _gone_ echoes in his memory, with Callaghan's awful sneer, dead and hopeless and unstoppable, and _he looked so incredibly-_

 _Familiar-_

His breath catches, and he curls up until his arms are wrapped over his head, trying to steady his breath. This is… something's wrong, even more than usual. Just thinking about him is making him so angry he can hardly breathe. It's burning, pulling and weighing down and scraping his insides with so much _red_ that he really, truly can't think straight.

He throws back the covers.

The act of sneaking out isn't exactly unfamiliar. Usually, though, he has some idea of where he's going- not simply moving through the dark house, down the stairs, through the empty lobby of the café, and slipping the front door open, just to stand on the front steps and look up at the stars for a moment. They're bright, but few- he figures it just comes with the territory, living in a big city.

There's a chill in the wind. Hiro doesn't look away from the stars.

…They went camping, once. When they were a lot younger. Mrs. Matsuda had told Aunt Cass about a nice spot in the mountains, about an hour and a half out of the city, perfect for a weekend getaway. They loaded up the van with all the snacks and comic books they could fit, worked through the requisite squabbling over who got the front seat- eventually ending in a draw, with both brothers sitting in back- and only had to turn around once, when Hiro remembered his sleeping bag was still sitting in the garage.

It was a disaster. The tent stubbornly refused to set up properly, they never even _thought_ about bringing bug spray; and the first night's endless litany of mosquito bites was replaced by a miserable, drizzling rain that lasted the entire second day. Tadashi insisted that they swim in the stream going through the campsite, anyway, leading to yet another argument that Hiro never really had a chance of winning.

He can still picture it- _Hiro, you're already soaked! You can't get any more wet!_

His chest aches, but he doesn't look away from the stars.

Cass tried her best to keep them both in good spirits, but the second night devolved into a short-lived I'm-never-talking-to-you-again after a fight over who would get the last chocolate granola bar. Hiro mashed a clump of dirt in Tadashi's hair, and-

It's getting colder. He wraps his arms around himself, imagining hundreds, thousands more stars blinking through the California sky.

-and Cass sent him to a time-out, which was basically just sitting in the tent without his comics, and he couldn't come out until he apologized to Tadashi, so naturally he'd lasted a full two hours before caving in, but Tadashi actually apologized first and said _sorry I called you a bonehead and told you to shut up,_ and Hiro was… actually kind of mad about that, because who gave Tadashi the right to be so damn understanding and unselfish all the time?

Shuffling his feet, he sits down on the steps, folding his hands in front of him as his eyes adjust to the dark, and he can see the faint outline of the buildings across the street. It's a quiet neighborhood, this late; far from the city's nightlife. Still, a few windows are shining out, probably all-night gas stations and the like. Mostly, the whole world around him just seems… quiet. Cold. Slow, and unchanging. He looks up to the stars again.

He doesn't remember exactly what else happened, but they decided to give it one more night and leave for home in the morning; and this is the last memory, crystal-clear, of Cass shaking his shoulder and waking him up, and Tadashi next to him as they blearily stumbled out of the tent and asked what was going on, and then…

He can still picture it, just barely. How the lights had been so bright, so many, that there were only _more stars_ in between them, and the thought suddenly clicked in his young mind that there were more, millions more that he couldn't see, all shining and spinning and floating out in the universe- and Tadashi gasped, and pointed out the giant, shimmering band of purple-black-white-blue stretching across the sky, and Cass said that was the Milky Way, and Hiro knew that was the name of the galaxy- but how could they see it, if they were also _in_ that galaxy? And Aunt Cass tried to explain it, but Tadashi just ran forward until he was in a bigger clearing, and Hiro followed him, farther from the trees, until he could see the whole sky and it looked like another world- and Hiro grabbed Tadashi's arm and shook it because he was so excited, _look, look, that's O-ri-on, I learned that one, I know that one!_ And Tadashi followed where he was pointing, and said-

His shoulders are trembling.

It's cold.

- _that's so cool-_

He stands, suddenly, almost a bit dizzy from moving too fast, then shakes it away and starts down the steps. He doesn't know where he's going.

- _do you know how to find the north star-_

The energy is still there, angry and vicious, and there's nothing to _do_ about it, so he just walks, and he tries not to think. He tries not to remember.

-he told him _yeah,_ and proudly pointed out the Big Dipper, then traced the way to find the single brightest star in the sky-

-and looking back, Tadashi probably knew how all along, but Hiro was so excited, so he let him tell it-

…

He pulls his hood up, so the sky's gone from his vision. Just the street, and the traffic lights, and the empty sidewalks. The aching dies down, just a little. Until he sees a smear of white out of the corner of his eye, and some part of his brain screams that it's a face, frozen and glaring, rushing toward him- and he whirls around so fast that he almost falls over completely.

It's a street sign. Speed limit. And he only saw it because of the reflection of the stars.

His phone says it's been an hour when he returns to the café, but it feels like only minutes have passed. He thought it would help, maybe, in some mysterious way- which seems stupid, now, because if anything, he feels _more_ riled-up and tense.

And lost in thought. And distracted. So he forgets to open the door in _just_ the right way to keep it from squealing louder than Mochi, when someone steps on his tail.

Hiro winces. But hey, maybe it won't wake her up. Maybe he's fine. That's what he tells himself, back through the café and up the stairs and through the living room right up to-

-the attic stairs, when a light is flicked on and he turns slowly to see his aunt, rubbing at her eyes and squinting at him. "Hiro?" she says quietly. "Where have you been?"

Not good. Definitely not good. And his head is already spinning, from everything else on his mind tonight- this is the last thing he's prepared for, so he just braces himself and hopes the truth will be good enough. "I couldn't sleep," he says. "Just went for a walk."

Oh, _there's_ a look he's seen before. And he can't exactly blame her for being suspicious, after certain… other nights. "No, I mean it," he says, but it comes out sounding pretty weak. "I just- I dunno, I needed some air."

"Really?" She's scowling, now, and even with how tired she must be, she still has venom in her glare. "That's your excuse?"

"Yeah," he insists, trying not to slip into a bitter, angrier voice. "Just… couldn't sleep."

Good God, he could not sound like a worse liar right now. But it must be his lucky day, because Aunt Cass only holds his gaze for a second before she sighs and rubs her hand across her eyes. She looks so… worn-down. And he suddenly realizes she's probably remembering the infamous 'Hey, Aunt Cass, we're at the police station, can you come pick us up' phone call so long ago.

Or maybe she's thinking about the last time she confronted him this late at night. He mumbles another 'Sorry', and tries to quietly sidle over to the stairway.

"Hiro."

He stops with one foot on the first step. And to think, he almost got away without this turning into a full-on argument. He breathes in through his nose, trying to push down the irrational anger that's trying to rise.

"I… need to ask you something."

Something about the way she says it makes him shiver. When he turns, and sees Cass standing in the dim shadows near the landing, she looks… haunted. Not like someone who's seen a ghost, but someone afraid they might find one.

She swallows, and he's pretty sure there are tears in her eyes. "It's gonna sound awfully strange, but just… answer me, all right?" she says, voice fading to a whisper.

His hand tightens around the railing to the stairs. "…Fine," he says, and he does his best to soften the sullen glare.

But if this is another attempt to 'talk' about… everything, then he's- he's out. There's no way in hell he's going to sit down and open up about _feelings_ or whatever. She can reprimand him for Halloween. She can apologize for almost slapping him. She can try to work through his 'behavioral issues' or whatever the hell Kapur called them, but he is _not_ going to stand here and suffer another conversation about Tadashi.

"Are you…" Aunt Cass blinks, and brings her hands to her face, hiding behind her fingers as she takes a deep breath. It sounds like she's crying. And it definitely _looks_ like she's crying.

For some reason, Hiro doesn't want to outright consider it: she really is crying.

"What is it?" he says, a little angrier and a little louder than he meant to. Finally, she moves her hands, and breathes again, and he watches as she dries her own tears and takes a second to get the shuddering out of her voice.

"Hiro, I need to know. For sure." Aunt Cass closes her eyes, then speaks in a rush, like it's the only way she can get the words out. "Were you and your friends… that group of heroes?"

He doesn't understand. For a moment, the words simply don't register. She's… mad at him for sneaking out. They've had fights. He's in trouble with the university. There are _things,_ going on in their lives.

This- this isn't- this has nothing to do with-

No, no, no, she can't know. There's no way. How could she know? He dimly realizes he hasn't answered yet, and- and she's just staring at him, eyes still watery and afraid, and he's… standing here, on the bottom step in a dark and near-empty building, with- with a question- and he's not ready for this.

He's not ready. He thought- he thought he'd have more time, to figure out how to tell her, or how to keep her from finding out-

 _I could just admit it._

The thought is fast, easy, sudden, and his brain runs through the possibilities while the rest of him is still locked in confusion and shock. He could… tell her, damn the consequences. She'd be heartbroken that he hid it all from her, and he'd probably never get to do hero work ever again, but at least she'd finally _know_. He'd be able to talk to her about Baymax. About the team. That, at least, would be off his chest, and he'd be able… to…

His thoughts slow to a crawl, and he feels that same dark, rippling resentment come back.

He's always been a good liar.

"The heroes?" he forces out. "From… after the fire?" Aunt Cass winces, but he keeps going. "The ones who fought Professor Callaghan? The ones who had… a flying robot, and lasers, and some fire-breathing monster thing?" His voice rises, almost sounding panicked. "Aunt Cass, that's _insane."_

He's doing something he can never take back, and he knows it.

"Hiro, just tell me," she says. "Yes or no."

"No!" he blurts out, firm and clear. "Absolutely not! Come on, you- you seriously think after Tadashi died, I was running around and jumping off of buildings? And we- we were- fighting _criminals?"_

He pitches his voice. Surprise. Indignation. Sincerity. _Exactly how would I react, if I knew nothing about them except the news reports-_

This is different from hiding Baymax. It's different from pretending things were okay, when they weren't. It's so much worse.

She'll never forgive him for this.

…Or, she'll never find out.

"That's crazy," he insists, running a hand through his hair- the other is at his side, unconsciously tapping out a frantic pattern against the hem of his waist- but still looking at her. "I mean- honestly, that's _crazy._ I know there were the bot fights, back then, but- but that's- with hero stuff, you can _die._ No. No, I'm not- I'm-" He shakes his head, with the same scowl from earlier. "That's not me."

Something in him feels like it's rotting, and falling apart. And when Aunt Cass smiles through half-tears, and sinks into a chair, with the purest expression of _relief_ in her eyes, that's the worst moment of all.

Because she's happy.

"Oh, honey," she whispers, and she sounds like she's on the verge of crying again. "I'm so, so sorry."

The reality and the façade would both have him scowling and embarrassed right now, so he huffs and turns away, rubbing at his face. "S'fine," he mumbles. "Don't worry about it."

"No, I- I mean it." She shakes her head. "You- you don't deserve that. I shouldn't have… asked that." She takes another deep breath. "Hiro, I… I need to tell you something."

God, he feels sick. He almost wishes it could be a physical nausea, because then at least he'd have an excuse to bail on this conversation, even if it was just to puke in the bathroom. But instead, it just sits in the back of his mind and feels like it's killing him.

"I know everything's been difficult," she says slowly, halting, like she doesn't know how to choose the right words. "Lately, I mean. After… what happened. And I-" Once again, her eyes shut tight, and she struggles to get her breathing under control. "I'm angry, and we- we've had _problems_ , and there are a lot of things we need to sit down and _talk_ about- but no matter what, I want you to know, Hiro-"

He's been squeezing the railing so hard that he suddenly realizes his fist is aching. He lets go, rubbing his knuckles with his other hand. "Yeah?" he says quietly.

Aunt Cass looks up again, and wipes her eyes one last time. "You're so strong," she says, almost impossible to hear. "And- and I'm so, so proud of you."

…He can't do this. He's going to fall apart, or turn and bolt up the stairs, or burst out crying and confess on the spot. But he swallows hard, and pushes it all back and down, and when he comes back to the surface, he's able to whisper back, "Thanks, Aunt Cass."

Another beat, hesitating, and then she gets up from the chair to give him a hug. He only hears one nearly-silent sob before she pulls back and moves some of his hair out of his eyes, almost looking calm again.

He has the overwhelming sensation that Tadashi would be _furious_ with him right now.

"That, uh-" She almost laughs, sniffling again. "That wasn't the thing I needed to tell you." When he doesn't say anything else, she continues. "Hiro, even though- even though it's obvious, with, all the-" Another pause, stammering, and she seems to wait and re-gather her thoughts. "I think I… need help," she finally says, and her voice is weaker and thinner than before. "I've decided, that- I'm going to be looking for…"

The words aren't coming, and Hiro does his best to sort through his own thoughts before saying, "You mean, like- counseling?"

"Yes." She nods, looking grateful. "I don't know much about, the- the business of therapists, and, psychologists-" She folds her arms in front of her, looking down briefly. "But it can't… hurt, right?" she asks softly.

"Yeah," Hiro hears himself saying. "Yeah, I- I mean, if you think it's a good idea, then… then I do, too. Yeah."

Aunt Cass smiles again, and rests her hand on his shoulder. "Thanks," she says. "I just wanted to- I didn't want to _not_ tell you. I thought you should know, first."

Oh, no. No, this is- this is Cass, trusting him with secrets. Even though their last few meaningful conversations have been fights. This is his aunt being one-hundred-percent honest and truthful with him, and Hiro wants to _die._

"Oh," he says, blankly, and tries to snap out of his self-loathing long enough to finish a conversation. "Right. That's… cool. I'm glad."

"Me, too." She takes her hand away, and sighs. "I don't know what to expect, really. And I'm… awfully nervous."

Hiro doesn't say anything.

"But who knows?" she says, a little louder, a little more solid, like she's trying to procure some confidence out of nothing. "Maybe it'll help. It might… be really good." The words probably sound flat and hopeless to her, because her shoulders sink after a minute. "Maybe."

"Yeah, maybe." Hiro waits a moment, then turns slightly so he can look at the stairs. "I should, uh…"

"Oh, right. Yes." Aunt Cass nods quickly, clearly trying to seem more authoritative and stern. "And no more late-night sneaking out, all right? Even if it's just for a walk."

"I got it," he says quietly, without any snark this time. He even does his best to give a bit of a smile before he starts up the steps.

"And Hiro-"

"Yeah?" He stops again.

"…Is that- is it something you might consider?" Aunt Cass is drumming her fingers against her side, like she's just as nervous as he is. "Seeing somebody, I mean."

...

The house is quiet.

He's thought about it. Getting help. Aunt Cass is only asking about Tadashi, but… after the fire, and Yokai, and coming inches away from death more times than he could count, and dragging his friends into unimaginable danger, and telling Baymax to- _"Baymax, de-"_ \- telling him to fly them all to the island, and trying desperately to save Abigail, and finding out Tadashi's trusted mentor was the one responsible for his death, and watching Baymax slip away into the void-

 _(and hearing the words from his own mouth- "-should have been me-" "-HIS friends, not-" –realizing that the hate is stronger than anything else-)_

Maybe it was a mistake, to ever think he was just… fine.

But who could he possibly tell?

Hiro fights down the guilt, as well as everything else swirling around his thoughts, and puts on the best mask he can. "I… maybe," he says. "I'll, uh, I'll think about it."

"Right." She sounds relieved, again. "Right." Another nod, and she pinches her forehead like she's trying to ward off a headache. Then, a hint of a bright smile when she looks up again. "Try to get some good sleep, okay?"

"Sure. Night, Aunt Cass." He starts up again, but adds over his shoulder, "Love you."

"I love you too, Hiro," she says warmly, and he's-

he's-

he's-

…

He's just… bad.

He doesn't even make it all the way to the bed. Halfway across the room, he simply sinks down to the boards of the attic, knees clacking against the floor before he turns slightly and moves so his back's against the side of the bed. He tilts his head so he's staring up at the ceiling.

He thinks about what Go Go said. And what Cass said.

He imagines Tadashi in here with him, after what he just did- and the thought is awful enough that a shiver goes down his back.

…She'll never forgive him.

(And if feels exactly the same as missing Baymax- and like dropping out of the sky- and like watching the impossible-colored clouds swirl around until they swallow him and he's gone- like the split second when the fire threw him back, before he hit the ground-)

He closes his eyes, but there are no tears, this time. Just a dark, sinking feeling that only gets worse as time passes. And the dream is different, this night, without a hint of Yokai or anyone else rising out of the fog. Only a memory, echoing louder and louder.

 _I'm sorry, Baymax._

 _I guess I'm not like my brother._

…

…

…

…

…

…

 _-Hah. I guess you couldn't write back even if you wanted to, right?-_

…

…

…

…

…

…

December is vibrant and shifting, pastel sunsets and dreary rainstorms. Days slip by, blurring together and slipping past, somehow both dragging on and disappearing before she notices they're gone. She's pretty sure Tadashi was starting his fall courses only a few weeks ago, and suddenly she blinks, and Hiro's the one who's about to finish his first semester.

It's funny, in a bitter, awful, mocking sort of way. Really, where does the time go?

" _I'm afraid I… don't know where to start."_

Cass grips the steering wheel more tightly. Seems like the light's been red for hours.

" _That's all right," the woman in front of her says. A gentle voice, like she- she's used to dealing with people who are scared. Because that's why she's here, right?_

She doesn't know how she should feel. Better? The same?

" _For now, let's just talk. Get to know each other a little more."_

Or maybe this is expected- the faded, tenacious sense of ' _this is never going to help'._

The car behind her blares its horn, and she realizes she's holding up traffic; she has no idea how long it's been green. Flustered, she takes the intersection a little too quickly, probably, and tries to regain her composure.

 _So she finds herself talking about Hiro, and the café, and- and she doesn't bring up Tadashi yet, but she HAS to know, doesn't she? She likely knew as soon as she saw 'Hamada' on the paperwork. But she doesn't ask._

 _Cass will have to talk about him eventually. All of it- because now, there are so many images, looming in her mind, reminding her of the worst that's happened. That still could happen._

The city passes by outside her window, busy and colorful. There's a purple-orange sunset haze reflecting in the windows around her, and she catches a glimpse of the real thing every once in a while, peeking through alleys and over rooftops.

 _A fire._

She tries not to think about how it felt, to drive up to the campus again. How it took her five minutes to finally turn her head and walk past the construction on the auditorium. Those steps, leading up to the front door.

How, she wonders, does Hiro do it? Day after day?

 _A hand, raised up with a scream._

She tries not to think about how the conversation turned to Hiro's attitude, and the way he seemed to be falling into some kind of pit she couldn't pull him out of- how he secluded himself in the attic, and the garage, and stayed out late, and how nearly every attempt at conversation seemed to end with bitter words and slammed doors.

And the question of how that made _her_ feel, and how- she bit back the truth, and couldn't say it, couldn't say that even though the answer should have been 'sad' or 'worried' or anything else that she _should_ be feeling, the first answer that came to her mind was _furious-_

 _A knife._

She tries not to think about how they asked her to fill out a questionnaire, before her appointment, and how there was a section near the end about at-risk behaviors- and the question regarding 'thoughts of self-harm'.

Mostly, she tries not to think about how she lied.

 _A small office, but cozy- she finds herself looking at the third chair in the room, empty, as if maybe sometimes the therapist has appointments with two people at once. And it makes sense, but- but at the same time, some vicious and volatile part of her mind just HAS to bring up the fact that, once again, she's in a room with only two people, and three seats._

She resolves that she'll be more truthful, next time. Even if talking about Tadashi is terrifying, and she'll have to expose the darkest and most haunting things about herself. And even if it means admitting that the world around her seems more and more pointless.

 _...And it's nerve-wracking, after weeks of waiting and growing more nervous, and the woman asks if she can take notes- of course Cass says yes, because she needs to do her job, after all- but it's still unsettling to answer questions and see the pen scribbling back and forth on the paper, like she's being tested- some kind of sick exam, measuring how much she misses her dead nephew-_

She forces herself to think of other things. The sun is still barely over the horizon, lighting up the glass in windows and awnings and turning the city into a thousand lights- she has the night off, and since Mako is one of her most dependable managers, the café will be fine. She made sure to have enough time free for the appointment, but now that it's over, she… doesn't really know what to do.

The stray thought jumps into her mind- maybe, she could finally, truly spend some time with Hiro. At least _try_ to mend some fences. In all likelihood, there's no way he'll be receptive to a sudden _hey, want to see a movie or something-_ but anything other than a scowl and a middle finger will be a success, as far as she's concerned. Might as well try giving him a call.

Idly, she reaches for her phone while keeping her eyes on the road.

…It's not on the seat, where she thought she left it.

And it's- no, it's not in her purse, either. For a second, she irritably thinks that it must have fallen off the chair, lost in the vehicle-

Oh, no.

Briefly, she wonders if she could get away with simply… leaving it, for now. She's sure it's back at the office in the school, and it's awfully tempting to simply finish the drive home, and come back for it some other time. But- no, she can't risk not having it.

She turns around as soon as she can, and starts back.

…

It's darker, now. Colder. _For California, anyway,_ she thinks humorlessly, trying her best to focus on the random memory- a weather notice from the radio on the way here, mentioning how much colder it was in the Midwest than here. There was nothing all that interesting, but it's better than thinking too much about… this.

The campus grounds, and the halls, and the front desk of the wing with the psych offices- it all ends up something of a blur, and pretty soon, she's back at the row of doors she just left only minutes ago. Cass hesitates, because there was nobody at the desk- so maybe she should just wait- then shakes her head, and resolves to simply ask. She remembers which door it is, so it doesn't take long.

She has her hand outstretched, about to knock, but- someone else is in there. And suddenly, the voice comes through stronger- raised, like the person is saying it more forcefully and angrily. "I saw him _every day._ And then- and everyone thought he was dead, and that was awful, but- hearing that he came _back_ , but he was some kind of- _terrorist_ , or something-"

The voice cuts off, and Cass involuntarily steps back.

A student, probably.

…

It's harder to hear, but she's pretty sure the voice is crying, now.

Her heart twists in her chest, and not only because she's now thinking about Robert Callaghan again. Of _course_ she wasn't the only one hurt by this. She can't- it wouldn't be right to open that door. Maybe she can just… wait for a while? She could stay out in the lobby, or-

"Excuse me?" She jumps, and one of the staff- Cass is pretty sure she was at the front desk earlier- is looking her way from across the hall. "I'm sorry- can I help you?"

It takes her a second to find her voice. "It's just- my phone," she stutters. "I wasn't- I needed to, um, I-"

"Oh!" The woman's smiling, now. "We weren't sure whose it was, so we just kept it at the front. Won't be a second."

"R-right." Blinking, Cass follows, and before long they're both at the front desk again. The lady heads behind the desk, and asks something.

Still lost in her thoughts, Cass misses it. "What was that?"

"The color of the case?"

"Oh. Purple." Hiro would probably find it hilarious that even a mental health clinic has to be careful with the possibility of theft. "There's, uh… scratches on the back."

The woman smiles, and hands her the phone, and makes a joke about winning the prize- but already, Cass is finding it hard to concentrate beyond more than a simple 'thank you'. Her mind keeps wandering, to the questions that blurred together during her appointment- and the way she hadn't cried at all, talking about- but on the other hand, she hadn't exactly been honest- and the voice, just now, crying and gasping disbelief because Robert Callaghan did something that ripped the heart out of this school and this city and _her family._

And now, she's driving back home.

…

" _Can I ask you something?" she says quietly, hunched over, gazing at her hands in front of her, and waits for an 'of course' before continuing: "Do you think people get what they deserve?"_

She doesn't end up making that call to Hiro.

" _I'm not sure what you mean."_

" _Like, when…" She's struggling to come up with the words. "When someone has awful things happen to them," she says at last. "Do you think it's because- they did something to deserve it? Or is it all just random, and they were just unlucky?"_

It probably doesn't matter, anyway- he'd just shut her down.

"… _No." The look on her face is thoughtful, and she taps the pen against the notepad in front of her. After a moment, she narrows her eyes. "I don't think it's useful to… spend too much time worrying how it all works. It's certainly not as simple as good people getting good things, and bad people getting hurt."_

Shivering, Cass abruptly realizes she still has her window rolled down. It was getting colder and colder inside the van, and she didn't notice.

" _Sure, some people are kind, and try to do good, because they- I suppose they hope it will help them, in the end. But I think there are a lot more people, who do their best because they_ _know_ _that it will help others." She gives another soft smile. "If that makes sense. I'm probably not explaining it well."_

And, she realizes, she doesn't actually remember the therapist's name.

 _Cass is about to say, "No, thank you, I haven't thought about it like that-" but she's interrupted._

Suddenly, too quickly, she's back at the café. She waits in the driveway for a moment; for some reason, she can't bring herself to walk inside. Not yet.

" _Do… you feel like you're getting what you deserve?"_

She doesn't cry, this time. She didn't cry in the therapist's office, either. She simply waits, and thinks.

 _She can't answer._

…

…

…

…

…

…

December is vibrant and shifting, pastel sunsets and dreary rainstorms. Days slip by, blurring together and slipping past-

But Hiro notices the nights, more than the days.

He likes the cold. He likes the gloomy, midnight rain that mists and hazes over downtown. The sting of the air against his arms feels good, now. He's not sure why. Even so, he keeps the hoodie on, and it shields his face as he stalks through the dark streets. A different one, more gray than blue. A small measure to, hopefully, keep anyone from remembering him.

He's not making a habit out of coming here. It's only been… three times, now. No big deal.

- _and his hands are itching to build-_

He follows the sound of the crowds, once he gets close. They always hold it in different parts of the city, but the general location is easy to find, if you know the encoded directions hidden in the website. The one with the constantly-changing password. The one whose code he's had memorized since he was eleven years old.

- _and shaking, because he knows he shouldn't be here-_

He pulls the hood lower. He doesn't think about it. Cass was already asleep when he left, so he'll have plenty of time to get back without a scene. It's fine.

He's only going to watch, anyway.

- _it's been so long-_

He can't just waltz up to the main event, so he stops at one of the smaller fights, like he's a quiet newcomer; fascinated by what's going on, but savvy enough not to snitch. The small alley's pretty crowded, maybe two dozen people or so, with a dilapidated fire escape that toppled years ago leaning over everyone's heads at an angle. Hiro ducks underneath, careful not to bump into anyone as he does. Best not to draw any attention at all.

He's been gone for months, so the risk of being recognized is low, but still.

There's a kid with a bright green mohawk, probably twenty or twenty-one, sitting across from a tall guy with sunken eyes who looks like he hasn't slept in a week. There are only about a dozen spectators for this one, but Hiro knows instantly that they're siding with Mohawk; Dead-Eyes has space on either side of him, like he's repelling the crowds through sheer force of glaring, but his opponent is chatting it up with people he's probably never met, laughing and joking like he's got nothing to worry about.

It's all a show. His eyes flick between the two fighters, and the bots in the ring between them. The referee is holding up the traditional umbrella, taking his time and droning on about how _monumental_ and _never-before-seen_ this match is, even though this is probably the least interesting match in the whole district right now; Hiro takes the time to scan the two bots for whatever weaknesses or strengths he can see.

It's always an inversion of what new fighters expect. It's how the big players got to the top, and how they're so difficult to bring back down; personality and ego, spectacle and intimidation. Multiple games being played at once. It's complicated, and exhilarating, and intrinsically smart. More than that, it's inventive.

Hiro shivers.

The bot on the far side is low to the ground, with circular segments connected to a center that looks like it's rolling on a spherical wheel. If he had to guess, he'd say the metal guards on each of the circles are probably hiding saws, or at least blades and motors. More circles spread out as he watches, and the whole thing's stretching out like a flat spider. His mind races, calculating probabilities and potential strategies without even really trying: Dead-Eyes will likely try to cut the other bot's feet out from under it, and once it's on the ground, it won't have a chance. And its mobility is probably its greatest asset, since whenever the bot moves even slightly, it does so with a smooth glide that suggests wheel bearings precise enough to turn on a dime. And with the multiple segments moving at the same time, it'll be able to evade any attack while getting closer to its opponent, and sweeping the legs out to begin the takedown.

Unconsciously, Hiro hopes that he won't have to go up against _that_ one. He can handle the usual beat-em-up bots that most of the city's halfwit builders come up with, but he doesn't have a fighting bot with a good strategy to…

…

It hits him slowly, like realizing he's dozed off in class and struggling to come back to reality. He scowls, and shakes his head, because he's not fighting- he doesn't even have a bot with him. It's been _months._ But it shocks him how quickly it's just _there_ ; the instinctive sense to keep an eye on the arena at large, to monitor the strongest-looking bots in play, and to work on strategies and countermeasures even before he's in the ring.

It scares him, but it feels good.

Dead-Eyes has barely moved. He's staring at his opponent's fighter, until the umbrella swoops down between them so Hiro can't see the other side. There's some scattered cheering and whoops now, but the sound is mostly drowned out by the cacophony from the bigger fights further down the alley.

"You in?" someone asks beside him, and Hiro nearly jumps out of his skin; fighting to keep his cool, he glances over to the guy who spoke. Buzzcut. Goatee. He's staring at him, no trace of expression- more importantly, he's got a bowl in his hands with a few bills dropped in the middle.

…Okay, that just about gave him a heart attack, but it's fine. The guy's just asking about bets. Spectators' pool, of course- the ref is the only one who gets to handle the pot for the fighters themselves.

Buzzcut probably doesn't recognize him.

 _At least he better not, or else Hiro's screwed, and he's probably screwed anyway, because this was a TERRIBLE idea-_

He fights down the panic, and doesn't turn to fully face him. "…Closing it before the match starts?"

Buzzcut shrugs. "Might leave it a few minutes, at least. Long as they keep it interesting."

"Good." His hands are still jammed in the front pocket of his hoodie; without thinking about it, he flicks the roll of bills, as if to make sure it's still there. "I'll find you."

He nods. He must have asked the others already, Hiro thinks- it's a small enough group that he can get each bet individually, and have time to spare. "No guarantees," Buzzcut warns. "Don't wait too long."

Hiro nods back, feeling some of the tension leave when Buzzcut finally walks away. He's… fine. It's going to be fine. They _don't_ recognize him, and it's not like he's actually fighting; this is fine.

But part of him's screaming to turn and go back; not for any moral reason, but because of practicality. He hustled _Yama._ Coming back to the scene at all is insanely dangerous, and that part of him is terrified- almost as strong as the part of him that's drowning in regret, a never-ending chant of _guilty guilty guilty mistake mistake mistake_ echoing through his thoughts.

Then the match starts.

And Hiro realizes; those parts of him are nothing, compared to the side of him that's so excited he can hardly stand still. It's _freeing_ ; for the first time in months, his eyes are locked onto the world in front of him, and there's a buzzing thrill in his feet that makes him want to run and jump and build and fight. The two bots start circling, waiting to make the first move- and Hiro can _see_ it, the calculating probabilities and counter-strategies at play in their minds, playing off of individual strengths and quirks and their own knowledge of the mechanics they themselves put into their work. Just like he used to. Like he _loved_ to.

Finally, _finally_ he can ignore the awful chattering in his mind, the whispering doubts and irritation and flaring temper that comes with every thought of Cass, and the gang, and Baymax, and Tadashi. Just for a moment, he can finally- _forget-_

 _Clang._

The crowd around him gasps. Hiro stops himself from crying out- the sound was so sudden, it actually made him start shaking. From his angle, he couldn't see Mohawk's bot at first, but he certainly can now. Humanoid, with clear arms and legs. One arm is extended forward, where it just slammed a sledgehammer-like appendage into the ground. There are cracks in the concrete.

Well, with this alley, they might have been here already. It's hard to tell.

But there are cheers echoing around him- Hiro didn't even _see_ Mohawk's fighter move, it had been so fast. Dead Eyes was lucky to get out of the way in time. The other bot raises up the clobbering arm, and it even turns to 'face' the spider-bot.

…It doesn't have a head. It's just a sort of torso, with arms and legs, and- that's it. Not that you'd _need_ a head for a remote controlled robot, but- still, not a very conventional design. Maybe Mohawk's going for 'unsettling' instead of 'intimidating'. Even so, something about the robot is really, really bothering Hiro- like it's… reminding him of something.

The spider-bot is on the attack. He leans forward, eager to see what kind of strategy Dead Eyes will try- but Mohawk is still grinning, even glancing at the people around him instead of the match, once in a while. Dead Eyes, however, hasn't blinked. Hiro takes it all in at once- the movements of the bots, the way their owners are acting… he's pretty sure adrenaline is charging his whole body right now. This is _right._ He actually feels good, and- happy. And there's no one freaking out, no one arguing all the time and telling him what to do, and there's no impossibly stubborn research that evades him no matter how hard he tries- here, he knows exactly what he can do.

He can analyze. And he can win.

…The _bet_ , obviously. Not anything else.

Dead-Eyes' plan is more interesting than he anticipated. The segments can move out quickly, covering a lot of ground; but since they stay so low, there's very little risk of getting hit in return. The entire bot functions like a spear, stabbing and retreating with such a small window of retaliation that Mohawk can barely do anything to get in a strike, even with the looming threat of the sledgehammer-arms. And _God,_ what is it about this stupid bot that's bugging him so much? It's… familiar? But he's pretty sure he's never seen this guy before-

It hits him in a heartbeat, and he frowns. It's the head. If Mohawk's bot had a head stuck on top, it would look eerily similar to… Little Yama, from back in the summer.

Huh. Weird. Mohawk doesn't look like the kind of guy who would-

 _CLANG._

It happens _again._ Somehow, Mohawk's bot is moving incredibly fast- Dead Eyes is a bit more worried now, fingers flying over his remote in a desperate attempt to get out of the way of the fall of the hammer-arm, barely escaping with each blow. With each near miss, the crowd whoops and hollers. Even without any direct hits yet, Mohawk is at least putting on a show.

But in the middle of the yelling, another stray thought is tugging at Hiro's attention- there's something off about Dead Eyes' stoicism. More or less, he's got the same steely, impassive look that he had at the beginning. He can't be a newbie, or else the crowd cheering for his opponent would rattle him a lot more. But… if he's more experienced, then there's no _way_ he hasn't faced a blunt-force heavy-hitter like this hammer bot. So why is he…

He's not dodging, Hiro realizes. It's not desperation. He's drawing out the match, taking his time, coming up with a plan, and- most likely- seeing if Mohawk will get sloppy in the process.

Hiro's gotta find Buzzcut, and fast.

Trying not to draw any attention to himself, he slips around the edge of the ring, staying behind the bulk of the spectators. A girl with a leather jacket and a loudmouthed, balding guy in a wifebeater are haggling over bets, now; Hiro can't make out the exact words, but they're clearly trying to negotiate better odds. They probably won't make any headway. Buzzcut doesn't seem like the kind of guy to cave just because people get shouty. Hiro glances back to the fight, because he _was_ planning to check the odds for Dead Eyes, hoping to be ahead of the curve, but… something's different, now. The crowd's energy feels like it's shifted.

"-seen this kinda thing before," someone in front of him says, and Hiro narrows his eyes. He can't see the bots too well from here, but- "-got him right where he wants him."

He tries to get a better view, moving further away from Buzzcut until he can take a look at what's going on. The cheering has definitely died down, and there are a few more excited/irritated calls. _Impatient,_ he thinks. That's the right word for it.

Riding the tide of the crowd's energy isn't all-important. You still have to know what you're doing. But if the crowd turns against you, and you're not ready for it…

"Crush him already!"

"Quit screwin' around!"

"Odds! Odds!"

His focus darts back to the three or four people around Buzzcut. The tide is definitely turning, for Dead Eyes- Mohawk seems a lot more jumpy, like every jeer and angry call from the spectators is really getting to him. And it's still tough to see down into the ring, but Hiro's pretty sure the hammer-bot hasn't landed a single hit. So, now, if that weird spider thing could somehow make a comeback; well, it probably be pretty damn fun to watch.

Huh. Hiro now knows exactly what the crowd wants. Either a quick, decisive knockout blow from the hammers- or, a dramatic reversal from the spider. In other words, the longer this match drags out, the better chance Dead Eyes has of harnessing the momentum.

He scowls. Probably best to ignore the betting, this time. He's not gonna get anything substantial on the fight anyway. Not if half the crowd already thinks the winner is… well, winning. Slipping through another couple of hecklers, he inches closer until he's at an angle where he can actually see, and-

…Mohawk doesn't have a _chance._ He's sweating, now- even from here, Hiro can see it on his forehead. The hammers from his bot are falling more slowly, erratically, and- with the next _clang_ , which seems to have less than half the impact of the first few hits, Hiro's pretty sure there are sparks shooting out of the bot's joints. The arms weren't designed to keep on lifting and swinging their own weights. Either Mohawk had no idea how to build, or he was staking literally everything on winning this match immediately.

…That's not likely, though. Hiro looks back to him, watching how he seems more worried, muttering under his breath, not ever looking away from the ring- the polar opposite of the self-assured joker from a few minutes ago. In fact, he looks like the dictionary definition of an overconfident newbie, who got so wrapped up in his own hubris that he lost control of the match, and is now trying everything he can to desperately salvage… his…

Wait a minute.

Another weak-looking hammer swing, and another _zzzt_ of sparks; the bot's probably not going to last much longer, and Dead Eyes hasn't even _done_ anything yet. Speaking of which, the other competitor is actually smiling, now, even if it's just a bit, and the crowd is 100% on his side. Every failed hammer swing brings more jeers and laughs, and the spiderbot's getting even more aggressive with lunges and feints that bring spinning saw blades dangerously close to its opponent's feet.

But Hiro forces himself to look away, even though the fight's getting much more interesting. Something about Mohawk, is… there's _something,_ and he can't figure it out.

 _Clang-ZZZZT._

The crowd roars. Dead Eyes' bot sends a few of the extending segments rushing forward, and they actually wrap around the hammer before it lifts up again- suddenly the spiderbot is writhing, jumping, springing forward, nearly landing on _top_ of the other bot, blades whirring and ready to strike- and all eyes are on Hammers, because the bot _barely_ scrambles away in time, disentangling itself and trying to put some distance between them before the next strike-

Now. Right now. Everyone else in the alley is watching the panicked escape, but Hiro tries his best to ignore it _just for a moment_ and look back to Mohawk, because- he's smiling. There's something Hiro's missing, he _knows_ there is, but-

Not Mohawk himself. The remote. Hiro can't see it perfectly from here, but he _can_ see that even now, while his bot is in danger of being obliterated- if the spiderbot cuts its legs out from under it, Hammers will likely be shredded in seconds- Mohawk's hands are manipulating and scrambling over the controls. The same controls as earlier. That wouldn't be strange, except- there are more inputs on the remote.

Mohawk isn't utilizing everything.

Yet.

…Even now, this is _still_ an act. Hiro blinks, not able to believe it, for a moment- Mohawk is running an even longer, more time-consuming con than he's ever tried. Overconfident. Naïve. Not serious enough. Showing off. Obvious he's going to lose, so- so his opponent blusters into a mistake. Holy _shit._

It's a new twist, but it's a twist on the very same trick Hiro knows by heart.

New plan. He doubles back, slipping through the people around him, taking advantage of the way they're all facing inward, and all taller than him- it makes it a lot easier to scamper between the cheering faces. Buzzcut is still guarding the spectators' money, and he doesn't take his eyes off the match when Hiro pops up next to him. "Odds," he says quickly, nearly out of breath. "Did you close it yet?"

The man snorts. "Damn right I closed it. He's just about won. I told you not to wait, kid."

"Not on him," Hiro says. "The other one."

Buzzcut gives him a look like he just said… well, like he just said he's gone up against Yama and won. "Hammers," Hiro says, frustrated. "Friggin- mohawk guy. Whatever. Odds for _him."_

"…Think you're funny?" Buzzcut says with a curl of his lip. "Get the hell outta here."

Something- the buzzing thrill that's been pushing him all night, or maybe the way it almost feels like standing on top of the bridge, waiting to fall down and soar over the water- pushes him to grab the money out of his pocket, and actually bring it out into the open _this is a bad idea this is a bad idea_ and gesture to the betting pot. "Hundred," Hiro says _probably way too loudly_. "Mohawk. You got odds?"

With yet another look of confusion/you're-an-idiot, Buzzcut grabs the money and- slowly- looks down, like he's checking to see if they're counterfeit.

And the crowd roars behind Hiro- and Buzzcut gives him a glare- and he turns, to see-

It's almost like it happens in slow motion. Spider-bot is making a move, slithering along the ground still, darting closer and closer- like he's figured out the pattern, and he can avoid the hammers more easily, snaking in and extending the saw blades, about to cut the other bot down, and if it falls, it'll be decimated in an instant.

One hammer's raised, but it doesn't have a chance of hitting its target. The crowd's excited, ready to see the other bot finally take Mohawk down-

And Hiro can't believe it, because the other hammer- the one that wasn't even lifted up, instead hanging at the bot's side- _explodes forward and detaches like a missile, slamming into Dead Eyes' bot and crushing half the segments in a single blow._

It makes sense. His mind is racing- it makes sense, because that would only work if you first tricked your opponent into thinking you only had one plan of attack, and got him so sure of victory that he would rush headlong into a final strike and he wouldn't be ready for anything new- because if you had a stronger attack, there's no _way_ you'd wait the entire fight to use it, right? Combined with the absolute perfect façade of Mohawk slowly getting more panicked, and losing the crowd's support… one-shot attacks that you can't get back are _never_ this successful. Hiro can't think of any other fighter that's used an attack like this. And- and it'll never work again, because now people _know_ , but… hell, Mohawk probably threw all the money he had at this one single fight.

If Hiro hadn't seen the smile, and the extra buttons on the remote, he wouldn't believe that this was all planned. He can still hardly believe it.

He blinks, and- the crowd is losing it, cheers and yells of rage and a few shocked questions of _what was that bullshit_ \- and it's gonna be an absolute nightmare for Buzzcut to get everyone their exact payout, particularly since he likely had the opposite outcome ready to go for the last two minutes.

Speaking of which- when Hiro turns back, Buzzcut's watching the aftermath with the same slack-jawed expression as a lot of the others. But then he looks back at Hiro. He narrows his eyes.

Oh.

Well, then.

…

Hiro _may_ have miscalculated, here. This very likely looked like a scam. And he- he probably seemed like he was in on it, betting against the crowd at the last minute.

Figures, honestly. The one time he actually _wasn't_ trying to hustle anybody.

He's in trouble.

"Winner can always cancel, right?" he says quickly, and darts forward to grab his money back- he's sure Buzzcut could have kept it from him easily, if not for the confused tumult of the crowd around them. It seems like it only took a second for everyone in the whole alley to start arguing, and all trying to move at the same time, and… okay, that was definitely the sound of a punch, and Hiro doesn't dare turn around, instead pocketing the money as quickly as he can and trying to _not touch anybody_ as he leaves, particularly those who are a few hundred pounds heavier than him. And could probably bodyslam him so hard he'd break through the concrete.

Buzzcut's yelling something, but _everyone's_ yelling something, so screw it. He knows when to cut losses. Yeah, he probably should have gone for a different fight- too late to worry about that now. If he gets out of here with his original hundred, and no broken bones, he'll consider it a success.

And then he _really_ starts to panic, because things get much, much worse.

The arguing behind him grows louder, and more shrill. He catches something like "-see that bot, alright, hand it over-" and by the time he turns to look, a different ref has pulled Mohawk's fighter from his hands. All eyes are on her, now, and even the disgruntled gamblers who were yelling at Buzzcut are quiet- the ref squints down at the bot, turning it over before glaring up at Mohawk again.

She looks _pissed._

There are more people blocking Hiro's way, now. Spectators from both ends of the alley- different fights, even- are starting to crowd in, clearly interested in what's going on. And Hiro realizes he _recognizes_ this ref; the tall, thin woman with a dark smile and a carrying voice, who announced his match with Yama, months ago.

She wasn't officiating this match. She must have been over near one of the bigger, more prominent fights. But then, if she took the time to make her way over here-

"-'s fine," Mohawk is saying, and Hiro's pretty sure the nervous waver in his voice is no act, this time. "Spring-loaded, not gunpowder or any illegal shit. S'fine, yeah? We're good." He reaches forward, as if hoping to take the bot back-

-And the ref grabs his wrist, so quickly that half the fighters in the crowd tense up. She stares at him for a moment, waiting for his face to turn pale. Then, she holds up the bot again. "Cheap paint job," she says. "A few mods to the joints, and you… took the head off."

There's murmuring all around him, but Hiro's glad for the distraction- he can't see Buzzcut, but if all eyes are on whatever's happening here, then he can slip away. As he moves, though, he's awfully tempted to keep listening.

"I- don't know what you're talkin' about-"

"-one big fight, make some cash, then hock it off to the highest bidder?" she says, cutting him off, then pauses, and when she speaks again, it's louder, clearer, so everyone catches it- "The warehouse raid. South side, two weeks ago. The stolen bots."

Hiro stops, and turns to see her hold the machine over her head. "Ladies and gentlemen," she says with a flair. "We got ourselves a real _opportunist_ here."

Okay, the crowd's really getting riled up now. It's tougher to hear anything in particular- besides, Hiro hasn't heard anything about this, so he's not totally sure what the ref is talking about. Mohawk, though, looks like he's about to piss himself. "Now," she calls out, momentarily quieting the onlookers again. "How do you think _Yoshido's_ gonna feel, when he finds out this Good Samaritan not only found one of his gang's lost fighting bots, but was _kind_ enough to bring it back to the ring?"

Yoshido. The name bounces around Hiro's memory for a second, before his eyes widen. Yoshido- as in, _one of Yama's biggest rivals._ "I think," she says with an eager smirk, turning back to Mohawk. "He'll be oh-so grateful."

There are people making their way closer. They _definitely_ weren't watching the original fight- and Hiro notices just how many people are crowding this alley now. He should have scouted out all the fights, first, because this is looking more like a major fighting ring than an easy in-and-out night of gambling. He was absolutely not ready for someone to name-drop Yoshido and start a gang scuffle.

Someone grabs Mohawk, demanding something about the money-

And right at the same time that the guy panics and takes a swing at him, Hiro feels someone grab _his_ shoulder. He spins, and- and Buzzcut's glaring down at him-

Shit.

Someone bumps him from behind, and Hiro's knee buckles so he loses his balance; hitting the ground hard, with a tearing stab in his ankle, he pulls his arms close to him just before a foot slams down right where his fingers were. And okay, yeah, people are running, now. If it wasn't a full-on panic before, then-

Damn it, his ankle is on fire right now. The pain flares up at the same time as the realization that God in heaven, he's about to get trampled. Adrenaline hits him like a train, and he scrambles to his feet as quick as he can- someone's yelling, _everyone's_ yelling, Buzzcut is _definitely_ yelling, but- but he's small, and fast, and he can get through crowds like this, because he's done it before. One of the dingy lights set up on the fire escape flickers and burns out when it gets hit, so- great, now it's really freaking dark. He can't tell for sure, but it sounds like there are multiple fights going on, not just in Mohawk's direction. He's hearing a very specific punching sound, over and over. It, um, doesn't sound particularly good.

Don't think about it. Just- get out. That's all.

His thoughts streamline until that's the only thing left. It's probably a good thing he doesn't have a bot with him, because as far as he can tell, the people around him are trying desperately to keep track of their own bots, as well as steal others, and that's not even considering the cash prizes that are floating around this alley in various places. He's close to one of the exits, and- shit, he doesn't remember exactly where this one leads, but it's at least going _away_ from the madness behind him, so he might as well run as long as he can, or until he gets out of the back alleys or until he finds his bearings and remembers how to get back.

Well, 'run' is kind of a subjective term, right now, because _shit hellfuck SHIT does his ankle hurt every time he tries to move it_ , so it's more of an awkward limp-slide thing, but hey, he's getting closer to the gap in the alley, and he's like sixty-percent sure that Buzzcut isn't waiting to break his wrists or something- how's THAT for some odds tonight-

 _ **CRACK.**_

That was a gunshot. Hiro's mind blanks. Someone had a _gun._

Wait. God.

Someone HAS a gun.

It all filters through his thoughts in an instant, and the sheer _jump_ that moves his arms and legs on hearing it is sudden, unstoppable, and he's- he's losing his balance again, because he can't really use his ankle to steady himself- and he can't see, because it's dark, and he can't think, because someone has a gun- so he doesn't have time to reach out and try to stop.

His face slams against something metal on the way down, and now he's… just kinda… on the ground. There's real screaming, now, and it's all he can do to curl up closer to the wall, trying his best to avoid getting run over by the crowd of impossible-to-see fighters, scrambling to get out.

He's…

…

It's actually really hard to… focus, and…

…

…

…

…Of all the nights he could have chosen, he thinks dimly.

…

…

…

He's not sure how long it's been. Five minutes? Fifteen? Probably not more than that- but then he hears the sirens, and if the cops are already here, then… he still can't tell. Trying to focus on _anything_ hurts right now, mostly because of the way the ground is scraping against his face when he tries to stand. It's cold. He reaches up to touch his cheek, and that is a mistake. Ow. _Ow._ Hissing, he pulls his hand away- and there's blood on his fingers.

Awesome. Cool. Yeah, this is- this is great. If the jacked-up ankle wasn't enough, he now has actual blood pouring out of his face. As if he needed another friggin' sign that this particular night is determined to screw him over.

 _Such are the thoughts of the mature and reasonable genius,_ he thinks to himself, but the bursts of sarcastic self-loathing don't do anything to make it hurt less as he slinks through the shadowy alleys, towards where he's _pretty_ sure the right street is, slowly, trying not to cry out from how much it just _hurts-_ he knows it's not broken or anything, but damn it, it's still an obnoxious flare of pain every time he tries to accomplish the basic human function of walking.

And also, his face still feels like it's trying to fall off, so that's a thing.

 _God._ This is…

…

…

…

He keeps walking.

If there was anyone around to notice the limping, he might be more self-conscious about it; as is, he just grits his teeth and tries not to worry about the pain too much. His thoughts are going kinda weird- well, weirder. The anger's drifting away, replaced by something simple and cold, like the biting air around him. Even trying to think up angry and swear-filled ways of describing the situation is… getting to be a little much. So he just walks, and it hurts, and that's that.

Can't think too much.

…

His ankle's probably just twisted. Nothing more serious than that- at least, he hopes so.

…

He could always make sure by asking B-

…

Hah. He realizes, he never actually got a chance to use the number thing before. Not seriously, anyway.

…

His foot flares up, like it always does, and he tries his best to avoid putting too much weight on it.

…

A seven, probably. Maybe he'd give it an eight.

…

At some point, he pulls the hood away from his face. Yeah, the cold mist is uncomfortable, but- somehow, it also feels kind of good. Barely prickling at his skin. The cuts- he's pretty sure they're just cuts- on his face are still giving him hell, but the cool air feels better than having the hood brush against them over and over.

The cuts should be fine. Probably? He doesn't really know.

…

He stumbles. He doesn't know if he hit something with his foot, or if he just tripped- and he catches himself, but he steps hard to get his balance, and the burning shoots up his leg so fast that he can't even yell, spots in his vision- just _hurts-_ falling, but slowly, shifts so he sort of crumples forward, not sure what happened exactly, one knee on the pavement, hands scraping the ground.

Breathing. Cold. Stinging pain- hands, ankle, cheek just under his eye. Hiro blinks, and finds himself looking up at the end of the alley in front of him. He knows where he is, and where the right suburb is, from here. It won't take too long to get back to the café. He just has to keep moving.

...He's fine.

Even so, he shifts so he can rest against the wall beside him, taking some time to just- just wait. Breathe. Close his eyes, and- and not-think, again, because _yeah, that's worked so well in the past._ Against himself, the whole evening keeps replaying in his memory, but mostly the most recent moments.

Just picturing it makes him shiver. The panic of running, and the gunshot, and how eerily similar it felt to flying towards Yokai- pillars of microbots, towers of death, raining down towards him like spears, and he had to fly out of the way and dodge and plan and shout and strategize and if he failed he'd plummet out of the sky and they could all be killed-

But he's fine. He got out. He went back to watch once- and he paid the price, and it's fine, because he's okay. He's going home. Hell, he even got his money back. He didn't win, but- but he wanted to- but he _left,_ and that's the important thing-

 _-only left because of the danger-_

He shivers, again, because it's so cold.

 _-If the fight didn't start-_

He was… already planning to leave, wasn't he?

 _-still be back there, betting, watching-_

Winning the money would have made him feel sick. He would have… he would have left.

 _-it would be worth it-_

Don't think about it don't think about it _felt so alive, more than the research, more than school, more than anything else, danger, risk, running, even if he'd be so disappointed-_

 _But he's GONE, so what's stopping me-_

He can't keep going back and forth like this. It feels like there are two people in his head, and they're so loud that he can't tell which one's him and which one's something else- and God, the cold's _really_ stinging, now. It feels almost physical, like-

Hiro blinks, and looks up. Or, he tries to, but the sting hits his face, too, and he can't- he can't see. He wipes at his face, trying to clear his vision, but it's too dark to actually see if anything's there. Eventually, he gets out his phone and waits for the screen to light up. Then, he holds it over his sleeve.

…Snowflakes.

He just stares, for a moment. Unusual, for California in early December. Not unheard of, and it'll probably melt in a half an hour, but… still. He pushes a finger against the cloth with his other hand, and the flakes melt to water on his skin immediately.

It's quiet.

…

He should get walking, soon. It's probably a terrible idea to sit out here, getting colder and colder.

…

The nearest tram stop is even further away than the café, at this point, so it'd be kind of redundant- he really should just suck it up, and head home.

…

Hiro lets his head fall forward, and his shoulders bump the wall as he slowly curls his arms around his torso.

…

The cold really sucks, he thinks dimly. But- it still strikes him as better than being too warm.

…

Eventually, he pulls out his phone again, and turns the front camera on. At first, he thinks the black streaks beneath his eyes are even more blood, dried and grisly against his pale skin- but no, that's just dirt from when he fell. He gingerly wipes most of it away, then looks at himself in the reflection. Since the camera's above the screen, he doesn't see his eyes looking straight back- he sees himself looking lower, like he'd seem to anyone looking at him. He's seeing himself like anyone else would. Like Cass would.

…He looks pathetic.

Finally, he rubs at his sleeve again, melting snow until there's a bit of water on his fingers. Carefully, hissing whenever it starts to sting- he tries his best to wash the blood off his face, a bit at a time.

…

It only spreads the red further, at first. So now he's staring down at a pale, dim, ghost-white reflection of himself, with red and dirt-black lines dripping over his face, and he looks… like…

…

…

…

He keeps working, until he's so cold his fingers are starting to hurt. The cuts are still there, and some of the dirt and blood is too stubborn, but… it's better. Marginally. He's about to stand when the camera switches off- his first thought is that his phone died.

But the screen switches to an incoming call.

Hiro stares down at the icon, until it eventually switches to a picture of Fred, posing dramatically on top of a pillow fort (the picture that he sent to everyone, demanding they set it as the pop-up for any calls from him). The phone keeps vibrating. He could just… hit a single button, and answer it.

He could. It'd be easy.

…

The buzzing stops, eventually. Hiro lets out a breath.

…

Seconds tick by.

…

 **NEW VOICEMAIL**

…

Finally, he stands, and faces the alley's entrance again. He knows where to go from here. A few more snowflakes are falling.

…

Hiro lets the message play as he walks.

"Hiro! How ya doing, man. Been, uh… been a while!"

His ankle flares, as if making up for the momentary reprieve, and he almost stumbles again. He has to brace himself against the wall with one arm. After a few seconds, he starts moving again.

"I know it's late, but I… Just, you know, just wanted to-" A cough, and a pause, like he's drawing a blank. "Just checking in! I was, well…"

He finds himself repeating similar thoughts, even in his own head. The cold stings, but it's also kind of a relief. He's tired. He can't think about the fight just now- but he can't think about anything else, without coming back to it. His face is burning, but that's a stupid way to put it, because it's so cold.

Only a few snowflakes, whenever he glances up. Not much. Probably won't last much longer.

"…Look, I'm really sorry." The tone changes, and he sounds- well, less like himself. Like he isn't trying to stay upbeat anymore. "About Thanksgiving, and everything, and- I don't know."

…Ha. Some far-off part of Hiro notices that, he kinda feels the same way. Almost down to the word.

"And I don't know what Go said- kinda just heard her yelling, and then she stormed out, but…" Fred sighs. "I wish things didn't go down like they did."

He limps across an intersection that's normally pretty busy. This late, there's not a car in sight. He can see the road that'll cross right in front of the restaurant.

"And while we're being honest, I wish you weren't, like… I wish you weren't doing this."

He doesn't have the energy to be angry about that. Or to have it float through his consciousness, giving him some big emotional realization or whatever. Instead, he just tries not to think, _Me too._

"Man, I'm not really good at- at whatever this is. It's like, everybody's mad at everyone else, and- I'm not sure."

It's so quiet. The awkward shuffling, scraping sound everytime Hiro's foot brushes against the concrete- it's suddenly the only thing he can hear, sounding out and shattering the silence of the rest of the city.

The snow's gone.

"I know we're not, like, exactly the same. So I'm not gonna say I know how you feel, or whatever, but… I know it hurts."

Yeah. Yeah, that's what Hiro needs. Yet another person telling him they _get_ it, and that it's _normal_ that things are going so badly, and that he just has to give it _time._ Another swell of anger rises up, gritting his teeth and making his heart race- at the same time, the pain in his ankle sort of blanks out any other input, and that just makes things worse. He's losing it.

"I know it really, really fucking hurts, and…"

Shit, he almost never catches Fred swearing. And he said it so normally, like- like he meant it with all his heart.

"And I know I probably _don't_ know? If that makes sense. I just- I mean, I _can't_ know. I guess that's the problem, kind of."

Hiro keeps walking, but he stops thinking. He stops focusing on how much it hurts just to walk, and he stops analyzing everything he's hearing. Now, he just listens. Because he wasn't really expecting Fred to say that.

"…I hate that things are so awful for you right now, dude. And I hate that there's, like… nothing I can do to help."

It feels like something's twisting, in his chest.

"God, I- I wish I _could._ If I could just- if I could just _get_ it, and know exactly what it's like, and know what to say, and…"

Fred sounds like he's about to cry. For some reason, that makes Hiro really, really afraid. And it strikes him as weird, that Fred's so determined to help him.

He… shouldn't want to help him.

"I guess, uh, saying all that doesn't really make a difference, huh? If I can't do anything about it." There's a laugh in his words, this time, but there's also regret. He sounds so much more… disappointed in himself? There's that pulling, sick feeling in his chest again; Fred doesn't talk like this. He doesn't.

 _But he's doing it, now,_ he thinks, _and whose fault is that?_

…

He's nearly there. The lights are off, just like he left them.

Out of the quiet, Fred laughs. "Man, I'm sorry," he says, and Hiro can't not-notice the way it still sounds off, still sounds so miserable- _he shouldn't be apologizing at all_ \- "I didn't mean for this to turn into Fred's Garbage Life Advice or whatever. The point is, I- I just-"

Hiro glances through the windows of the lobby, as he passes. His reflection looks back. He turns away, and keeps walking.

"…I don't know."

It doesn't take long to reach the back steps. He limps up to the entrance, and he has his hand on the doorknob- and he stops.

Briefly, he tries to recall what it felt like, only minutes ago. Free. Excited. Happy.

Terrified.

"I'm here if you need to talk, or whatever."

…Right.

Of _course_ he is.

Hiro closes his eyes, and rests his head against the door. Why would he think that, why would he _question_ that, why is he afraid of- why is he so- why does he hate- why is everything always-

"Hah. I bet you've heard that a hundred times."

…

Yeah. He has.

And every time, he hates himself a little more.

…

…

…

"Miss you, dude."

And that _really_ gets him, freezing him in place and making him get choked up, thoughts pounding loud in his head- because it's emotional and honest and real, and Fred doesn't even _care_ if the things he says sound too girly or 'gay' or whatever- he just says what he wants to say, and right now, the thing he wanted to say the most was-

It strains at Hiro's throat. And he doesn't- he can't-

 _-what's wrong with you-_

Finally, he opens his eyes, and puts the phone back in his pocket. Don't think about it. Just… push it all away, again. Like he always does.

He's back. There are other things to worry about. And as he slips the door closed behind him, and starts up the stairs, he tries to prepare himself. Time for a repeat performance.

…Who is he kidding? There's no way to hide this. If Cass is awake, he's done. End of story. He steels himself, half-trying to psych up a 'ready for anything' mantra in his head, but half-distracted by the way, wow, his head is absolutely _killing_ him right now. He steps onto the landing, squinting in the darkness, aiming for the other staircase to the attic. Stairs aren't exactly his friend tonight, given the way his ankle feels it's being amputated Civil-War style, but he doesn't really have a choice-

"Hiro?"

If he was more lucid, he'd probably scream, he thinks. As is, he just stares in the direction of his aunt's voice, sluggishly trying to figure out what's going on. Cass is… awake? In the living room? In the kitchen? In the dark?

There's a fumbling sound, and then a light flicks on- Cass looks absolutely exhausted, staring blankly at him. There's a glass of water in one hand. She, uh, probably got up to grab some water, Hiro guesses. She looks confused as hell- honestly, she probably assumed he was upstairs, asleep.

…yeah, that was some brilliant detective work, he thinks. Definitely not a waste of thought at all.

"Why on _earth_ are you-"

He can hear the exact moment that she sees his face, because her words stop dead. There's a single intake of breath, and Cass immediately covers her mouth- as if to stop herself from yelling- and for a moment, doesn't say anything.

Hiro can only look at her for a second, before he has to turn away.

"Hiro," she whispers, and forget anything he's feeling in terms of pain- that single word sounds like it _killed_ her to say it. "What… what happened?"

And he swallows, and tries to look up, and he- he tries to say-

-can't say anything. He _can't_ , because there's no more anger, no more worried hyperactive concern, no more determination to lecture him or ground him or anything else. She's just… standing there, like there's nothing else she can do. Maybe there isn't.

He looks down, because it hurts too much to keep looking her in the eyes, and…

…

The quiet is so much worse than any yelling.

Listless, mumbling, he tries. "Couldn't sleep," he says, and it's weird how lying doesn't feel any different from telling the truth, anymore. "I was- I- I didn't look where I was going, and…"

He can't think of _anything._ There's no excuse that will work, here- he wouldn't have gone to the lab _after_ already coming home, that evening. He wouldn't have gone to a friend's place, in the middle of the night. Hell, even the truth wouldn't make much sense to her. "I guess you were right," he says. "Late-night walks. I shouldn't have…" Finally looking up, he raises one shoulder. "Yeah."

Tears aren't falling, but they're there. Cass blinks, and looks away from him, for a second. "…That's it?" she says, at last. "That's all?"

All at once, he wishes she would be angry. Or just… yell at him. Or say something else, anything else- not just sound so _hopeless,_ like it doesn't matter what she says or what he does, like… like there's no point.

"I'm sorry," he says, and he can hear his own voice fade out- empty, meaningless, and it doesn't matter if he's sincere or not. He doesn't even know, at this point.

Slowly, Hiro starts past her. She has plenty of time to stop him, if she wants.

He doesn't hear anything, except his own footsteps. The steps to the attic, creaking. The slow whine as he closes the door, and it _clicks_ into place.

…Tadashi would have called him out on it.

Baymax probably would have, too.

…

…

…

…

…

…

Days.

…

…

…

Nights.

…

…

…

" _I'm sorry, Miss Hamada, but Dr. Takachiho called in sick this morning; would you like to reschedule? There are a few open times next week."_

…

…

…

Tired.

…

…

…

She sees Hiro less and less, but when she does, he looks at her like she's a stranger. Then, next time, like he's an animal in a cage. Then, with nothing but hate.

She's probably imagining that, right? She can't possibly know what 'hate' looks like in a single glare. He's… just tired. Yeah. He doesn't… he wouldn't _hate_ her.

…

…

…

Tired.

Tired.

Tired.

…

…

…

So why can't she sleep?

…

…

…

…

…

…

The way Hiro sees it, there are two options.

One, he can give up. He came awfully close, leading up to Thanksgiving. Go Go saw the worst of it. He could bail on the project, finish his classes- or ditch those too, honestly, because who the hell cares- and give a metaphorical 'screw you' to the worst four months of his life, flipping the double bird behind him as he walks forward into whatever comes next. Um. Still metaphorically, he supposes.

Or, he can double down.

Forget the bot fights. Forget worrying about finals. None of it matters- he's sick of feeling stuck, and feeling like he can't do anything to fix it, and feeling guilty about Cass and dealing with his friends and all the other garbage that's making him so paranoid. So, the solution is simple: focus on one problem. One puzzle to work through. Streamline it. Look for a new angle.

Baymax is, right now, the only thing that's important.

It's a simple question of what you choose to think about. As cheesy as it sounds- for a while, Tadashi got into some 'mindful thinking' tapes or whatever, and Hiro hates to admit it but some of the advice is still stuck in his head- he can choose to freak out and obsess over thoughts like 'no matter how hard I try, it's not enough' and 'it still hurts, all the time' and 'I can never bring him back, because I'm not good enough'. Or, he can do that metaphor-hand thing again, and walk away.

Just don't think about it.

Sometimes it's impossible, but sometimes it seems to work. School comes and goes; the 'incident' is going to affect his second semester, but right now, they're pretty much leaving him alone with so little time left before break. And without the pressure of trying to succeed and excel in every course, he finds he can spend _so much more_ time working on Baymax, even during class. Sure, the mumbled goodbyes and awkward silences with Aunt Cass are getting worse, but nothing like Halloween. And whenever things get really bad- when the dark stuff is all he can think about- he's able to counter it, because at least he has the project. Baymax matters. _Something_ matters, and he's going to get him back. He'll do it alone, if he has to.

Sometimes it's impossible.

But, sometimes, it works.

He's been powering through for a few hours now, at the campus lab, and he can _do_ this. He had to postpone work on Baymax's frame and the vinyl, for now, because… well, there's the money, first of all. But more importantly, the mechanical and technical sides of this problem aren't going to be nearly as big of a factor as the chip itself. It's all about the AI, now- and against himself, Hiro's almost a little bit excited at the challenge. He's gone through the bullshit self-doubt trial and all that, and now he's ready. He's smarter. And no matter what, he's not giving up.

It'll be fine. Even if his face is still itching like crazy, even if the scrapes on his fingers flare up every time he tries to use the computer, even if the lab's kind of lonely on nights like this- even if hearing nothing but the clack of the keyboard is kind of surreal, even if the research isn't exactly coming along in leaps and bounds, even if it's really, really late, even more so than usual-

Wait. How late is it, actually?

"Hey, little man."

Shit. He genuinely didn't realize anyone else was in here with him. Briefly, he glances over his shoulder and takes out one headphone- the lab's nearly empty. Running half-lights since it's so late, so part of the room is shadowed and ominous. Wasabi's standing near the other row of computers. "Hey," he says in return, after turning back to his work.

The dummy program he's working on is basically a practice run. He can write, destroy, and attempt to repair whatever code he wants, and nothing will actually be lost. And if he can eventually replicate the exact way that Baymax's code was corrupted… then he can have as many attempts as he needs to get its restoration exactly right. It's not exactly Plan A, but it should work. It'll just take time.

Even longer, if people keep bugging him.

But Wasabi doesn't say anything else- Hiro hears absolutely nothing in one ear, as if the guy's still just standing there.

…He knows he's not exactly on great terms with everyone. The argument with Go Go pretty much burned that bridge, and outside of a few pesters once in a while to ask him what's going on, the others have mostly left him alone. Maybe she gave them enough details that they know he's done with all of this. With them. He doesn't really care if she told them or not.

He doesn't care.

He ignores the sickly, hazy feeling at the edge of his mind. If Wasabi doesn't want to talk, so much the better.

He _does not care._

Back when he first realized how much work this would be, he set up an ultimatum: have the program finished before Christmas. He's not sure why that's the date he keeps jumping to, but he's determined. One line of code at a time.

He'll be talking to Baymax by the new year.

He just has to _the chip won't be finished by then; it might not be finished at all_ push the rest away. Not a problem. He reaches up to put the headphone back in, but when he does, he notices his hand is shaking.

God, that's getting annoying.

 _Now,_ of course, Wasabi says something. Hiro sighs and takes the headphones out again. "What?"

"Just… wondering if things are okay." He's closer now, but he walked up at an angle, so when he gets to the computers, he's still off to the side. "And if I'm being honest, it doesn't look like they are."

He bites back about twenty sarcastic responses, eventually managing a mumbled, "Sure."

Another bit of silence. "…You're probably gonna say it's none of my business, and I don't need to worry about you, and-"

"Probably." He still has his fingers over the keys, but with half his attention pulled away, it's not really feasible to keep working.

"Hiro, look." A heavy sigh- concerned, parental, _I-just-want-what's-best-for-you_ type of thing, that _everyone_ seems to be throwing his way lately- and Wasabi continues. "You're really smart. I'm sure I don't need to tell you what happens when you try to push yourself too much, without getting enough sleep."

…Okay. That was more specific than he thought he'd bring up. And damnit, he _noticed_. Sure, he probably shouldn't have assumed that he could fool everyone with an 'it's fine' forever, but…

"I just- I guess I'm worried, dude. You know you're hurting yourself, right?"

"Don't worry, Mom," he says without looking up. His fingers click over the keys, again, and he adds, "I'll make sure I eat all my vegetables to grow up big and strong."

"I'm serious! You live with _Cass Hamada_ , so why on earth do you look like you haven't eaten in days?"

What the hell? Hiro thought he was in for another _we're your friends, why can't you just talk about your feeeelings_ spiel. And now Wasabi's bringing out, like… logical arguments. That's not fair. He can't snark back against that. So he doesn't say anything, and doesn't take his eyes off the work in front of him.

Eventually, Wasabi sighs, and sits down a few chairs away. "…Sorry. You're probably sick to death of people yelling advice at you."

He hums in response, like he doesn't really care, but his first thought is _yes, absolutely, ding ding ding, correct answer, so maybe shut the hell up for a second._

Actually, it's a little surprising when Wasabi does just that- Hiro gets at least a few minutes of quiet, and he keeps trying to focus in on the information in front of him. This part of the code _here_ isn't exactly a guarantee, but he's fairly certain it will work correctly once he test-runs the whole thing- and if that works out, he'll be a step closer to finding out what he needs to-

"Can I ask how it's going?"

God. Damnit. Hiro very deliberately doesn't blow up in frustration, and pushes the chair back slightly so he can rub at his eyes. "Can't promise I'll answer, but yeah, sure."

"Right." Wasabi doesn't sound impressed. "So how's-" He cuts off abruptly, and when Hiro looks over, he's squinting, leaning in closer to see the screen. "That's… code. Isn't it?"

"What about it?"

Wasabi looks at him, then back at the computer. "Well," he says slowly. "I guess I was under the impression that you were trying to… you know. Rebuild the frame for Baymax. Not, and this is just an educated guess, trying to rewrite his base code." The last words are calm, but very much intentional, and Hiro has to fight back the unease that's building in his chest.

"I'm not messing with the chip. Look, it's- it's more complicated than that."

"Really." Wasabi's voice has gone flat, and he gives Hiro a look that he can't read in the slightest. "Do go on."

"…The code's damaged," he says, because what would even be the point of hiding it now? Even so, he does his best to ignore the way his face goes red with the admission. It's one thing to describe the problem, but it's another to confess what he purposefully lied about for a few months. "Trying to fix it, right now, could ruin everything. I'm running tests and setting up practice codes until I know what I'm doing."

It's not as dramatic a moment as it was with Go Go, but he still feels the sharp, slicing moment when Wasabi realizes what he just said. "…You said you were just working on the rebuilding," he says slowly. "You didn't say anything about corrupted data. You didn't say Baymax himself was…"

His words trail off, which does a pretty good job of planting the words _hurt, betrayed, devastated_ in Hiro's mind- and yeah, cool, let's relive this whole thing all over again. "I sure didn't," he says, and he's trying to make it harsh and cold-blooded and uncaring, but all of that's drowned out by the regret that twists up his stomach and sends shivers over his back. He absolutely doesn't want Wasabi to ask why he didn't tell them, and he doesn't want to have to say _again_ that he couldn't, because he'd just told them that very morning that he _would_ be able to fix him, and he doesn't want to have to sit there while Wasabi decides that's not a good enough answer, just like Go Go-

"…So what _are_ you working on, then?"

Oh. Okay. Um. That's not really what he was- shit, this is awkward. Okay. He blinks a few times, because he was already like ten arguments ahead in this imaginary conversation that isn't actually happening, and backtracking to process Wasabi's question is more confusing than he would have expected. "It's, uh, a totally separate program. Or, it will be," he says, trying not to stutter. Wasabi doesn't say anything, clearly waiting for him to elaborate, and he sighs. "It's just a translator, more or less. If I can rig up a device to get the working thoughts he already has, and connect them to the lab computers… it'll give him some power, and also let him communicate. Like a mini-version of the charging station, but it'll also let the AI type through text." _Hopefully,_ he adds in his head. "No tampering with the chip necessary."

"So you could… talk to Baymax directly," Wasabi says, nodding, sounding more impressed. Or at least, less accusatory. "Without worrying about corrupting the code any further."

"That's the idea, yeah." He fidgets, and sits a little straighter. This is a weird combination of pride in his work, and having others notice how clever it is… and still kinda feeling like human garbage. And there's a bizarre, nostalgic memory filtering through at the same time- getting excited about creating things, and swapping ideas, and competing in school projects, and- and- thinking _he's gonna think it's so cool when it's finished-_

"Not yet, though," he says eventually, blinking. Focus. Don't freak out. "I have to be absolutely sure it _won't_ interact with the code itself, or else trying to attach anything at all to Baymax's data could make everything exponentially worse. So, basically, I'm in it for the long haul."

"Huh." Wasabi's quiet for another moment, and Hiro takes a second to be grateful that he's concerned about the stuff that matters, instead of wasting all his time fretting over poor little Hiro who needs love and support, and all that BS. "So, you've pretty much been working on everything here at school?"

"I can get more done in the lab." He shrugs. "It's easier. So, work on the chip, and models, and the bigger parts of the whole project- I just leave it all here. Then at home, I take care of the research and Internet stuff, and go over whatever notes I need to."

"Man. You've got quite the system, that's for sure." Wasabi's still using that weird tone, where Hiro can't figure out what he's really saying.

"Yeah, I do."

Silence, again. Hiro's been staring at the code for about… God, he doesn't know. Five minutes. Half an hour. Whatever it's been, he's made pretty much zero progress, so _that's_ great, and this little heart-to-heart has him feeling like he's one more stupid question away from flipping his lid completely-

"You know you can't keep this up, right?"

"Oh, god- _damnit_ ," he says out loud, and he didn't really mean to, but who cares? His head falls forward onto his arms, crossed over the desk in front of the computer. He's so tired. This is so _stupid._ "Are we really gonna do this again? You want to go another round? Just talking, and talking, and pretty soon we've both got our arguments memorized like a script for a soap opera? Sure, great, sounds fun. I'm game. Let's do it." He's rambling again, but at least he's… at least… hell, he doesn't actually know how that thought was going to end.

"We all want him back, man. You know that. And it's- it's absolutely incredible how much work you've put into building him again. You know Baymax, and you know robotics, and you know engineering-" Wasabi stops, and Hiro fights the urge to glance over to see his expression. "But I know burnout, dude. And you're crashing hard."

He fumes through his nose, and tries to push back the anger that's already coming back. "I'm not _burning out_ ," he says a little too forcefully. "I'm fine."

"Everyone burns out! This is college! Hiro, you- you've got twice as much stress to deal with as anyone else I know, and I can't believe you're trying to pretend that _none_ of it is getting to you!"

 _It's not like that,_ Hiro wants to say. Or maybe, _That's not what I'm doing._ Or _It's not that simple._ What he actually says ends up being, "I'm not pretending," and he immediately realizes how obnoxiously arrogant that sounds. But he's tired, and thinking about any of this _hurts_ right now, so fuck it, he's sticking to it. He shoots another glare in Wasabi's direction, then turns back to the screen. Even though he's obviously not going to be able to focus.

"Hiro? Come on, man."

No. Seriously, no. He's not going to keep this going. He's _so sick of arguing._

"Just- you can't- _ugh._ " It's not every day he hears Wasabi get this frustrated. It's kind of funny. "Listen, do you think you _have_ to act like this? Like you don't have a choice or something?"

Hiro doesn't answer, but- but that actually sounds eerily similar to the way he's been-

-thinking-

 _-he's just trying to help-_

 _-but you don't d-_

…No, no, not again. He can't deal with this right now. He doesn't have the energy or the time for another breakdown where his thoughts are going in a million contradicting directions- he can't have that happen _here_ , in front of _Wasabi_ of all people-

 _-have to act like this-_

 _-don't have a choice-_

"I don't get it, man. Why do you think you need to do this by yourself?" Wasabi asks, sounding incredulous.

But he doesn't think that, not really. It's not as simple as-

 _-have to-_

 _-choice-_

 _-don't deserve-_

 _-don't need-_

 _-they shouldn't-_

 _-leave-_

 _-alone-_

He can't figure out what he should do. He can hardly even focus on what Wasabi's saying- he hears it, but… but what's he supposed to do? He can't just-

"You look exhausted, all the time, and- and you don't have to be! You don't have to be alone, or… we keep trying to help you, so why are you still-"

Okay, screw it. All of it. He's getting his breathing under control, and he's latching onto one single thought to make the rest shut the hell up- and it's working, because the longer he thinks about Baymax, the more he's able to concentrate.

It's getting better. It was an overreaction.

He's f-

…He's alright.

"It's got nothing to do with that," Hiro says at last. "Look, it's not- it's not about helping anybody. It's not about you. Or me. It's just _Baymax,_ okay? I can't risk the data being any more messed up. That's it."

That's it. Nothing else matters. Focus on that, don't listen to- to everything else- _pushing away, curling up until you disappear, farther from everyone, smaller and smaller and alone until there's nothing left_ -

Wasabi's eyes are cold, and locked in place. "So this is about him? Really?"

 _-the only one who can do it, who can bring him back, don't need them don't deserve them don't leave me you left them they'll leave you they SHOULD-_

"Of course it is!" he blurts out, and Wasabi leans forward like he's playing his trump card.

"Alright, fine. What do you think Baymax would want you to do?"

Okay, that ratchets up the boiling in his skull until he feels like he's going to actually explode for real, and it takes everything in him not to scream at the top of his lungs. "Right, of course, because you obviously know what he wants," he snaps. "And you're gonna go on this whole rant again, just like everyone else, and- and help me see that I just need to be _nicer_ to everyone and think happy thoughts or some shit, and everything'll be fine? Right?"

"What? No, I-"

"Baymax would want me to _bring him back,"_ Hiro says. "That's what matters. He would want to come back, so he can _help_ people. You know, the one thing he wants more than anything else? That's what matters. So that's what I'm doing."

"But not like this," Wasabi says immediately, like he's not even listening- and Hiro presses his hands against his head, fuming. "Not so much that it's killing you, man! Not by yourself! Hell, Baymax was _always_ talking about how we need each other, remember?"

 _-is this what-_

He's just so _angry_ , and it's always there. Not- not like- it's supposed to go away, or change after a while, right? It's not supposed to just- stay there, shaking and red and burning and loud all the time until he can hardly _think-_

 _-would have wanted-_

Words, phrases, filtering like lines of code through his memory.

 _-Tadashi-_

 _-Abigail-_

 _-Baymax-_

The feeling is cold, and it reaches around his heart until he's shaking and trying not to panic.

 _-IS GONE-_

"That doesn't matter," he says _he doesn't believe it_ with a tremor in his voice. He has to double down. "If I don't pull this off perfectly, he won't come back. So- so right now, I don't have time to worry about what he might want, hypothetically, because he doesn't want ANYTHING right now, because he's stuck in a tiny piece of hardware that might _break_ if you screw up _once_."

 _-pushing people away, just like-_

 _-Baymax is all that matters-_

 _-JUST LIKE-_

"-get it, okay?" Wasabi says urgently, and Hiro does his best to focus in on what he's saying. "I know it's important! I know how much this means, so- so why do you keep thinking you have to do it alone? Why do you think no one else can help?"

Okay, Hiro's getting really sick of hearing the same thing over and over from different people. Just before he whirls around to face him, he has the premonition that this is going to sound awfully arrogant-

"Is coding your specialty?" he snaps, staring up at Wasabi. "Do you think you can get this right? Do you think you're as good as him? Did he teach you how to build remote-controlled robots? Did he tell you how AI works?"

Wasabi doesn't look away. "No," he says quietly.

…Yeah, now that the words are out there, Hiro realizes how stuck-up they sounded. He's sure his face is red, and- goddamnit, he feels so _frustrated_ right now, so he can't say anything, so he can't-

"But," Wasabi says. "He did spend about half of our sophomore year doing homework in my dorm room."

He's about to ask what _that_ has to do with anything, but then his earlier conversation with Honey comes back to him. Sophomore year… "And that included working on the code for Baymax's AI," Wasabi finishes.

…

Yup, Hiro thinks dimly. He is officially an idiot. Forget being stuck-up, or arrogant- realizing he overlooked something like that hits _way_ closer to home. Why is he such a goddamn moron?

"He took the worst notes." Startled, he realizes Wasabi's glare has softened. Hiro honestly thought he'd press the issue, making his point and making Hiro feel even worse, but… now he looks lost in thought. "Just the _worst._ Completely illegible. Half the time, he'd be going over stuff, and he couldn't read the equations that he wrote."

He grins a little bit, and Hiro feels something uneasy and guilty rising up- he shouldn't be listening to this. He shouldn't- Wasabi's letting him off the hook, and he _shouldn't_ be doing that. He's- he's still- _why is he still so mad-_

"Sure, but he still had to do all the work himself, right?" he hears himself say. It's like he's not completely in control right now. Like the half of him that's tired of hurting, and sick of slapping away every peace offering the others extend- it's losing, badly, to the half that wants to be right.

Wasabi looks at him again. "…Yeah. He helped me with a lot of my physics assignments, too."

He wonders what that was like. And the dark pit inside him gets darker. "Well," he says sarcastically, then spreads his arms- as if to say, _there you go._

Scowling, Wasabi shakes his head. "That's- that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"The point is I can help you! We all can, alright?" Wasabi almost laughs, incredulous. "You're not, like… some untouchable, unmatched paragon of raw genius, man."

Damnit, his temper's flaring. Again. "I'm not saying I am!" Hiro says forcefully. "But you said Tadashi did the work himself, right? So-"

"Cool, so you're saying you're basically him; is that it?"

"Of course not!" Before he realizes he's doing it, he reaches up and grabs at his hair. "But this isn't an afternoon study session for a quiz or something, alright? This is really freaking important, and-"

His voice is getting shaky. Pathetic-sounding. And he doesn't think he can stop it. "It's _Baymax,_ " he says. "I can't mess up. I can't get any of it wrong."

"Exactly!" Wasabi has his arms crossed, looking at him like he's speaking gibberish. "It's Baymax! You know- the robot we all cared about? The one we trusted with our lives? The one who ended up being a friend? Why on earth do you think we can't _help_ with him?"

No, no, no, this is bad. Once more, Hiro can- he can imagine the words before he says them. He doesn't know if he can stop them, though. He's not going to.

"Well, you couldn't help Tadashi," he says- like it's someone else's words- and he _doesn't want to say this-_ "You just told me that, right? And you can't help me. Not with this. So you're- you're wasting your time." It takes all of his effort to keep from saying ' _my_ time', and sounding like a grade-A douchebag, but all the same, he feels just like he did with Go Go. Like he's standing by while poison falls from his mouth, and he's not doing anything to stop it.

"Are you _serious?!"_ His voice spikes up, and Hiro flinches. Wasabi immediately looks around, like he didn't mean to yell so loudly- then turns back, leaning closer so he isn't broadcasting his words to the whole school. "Hiro, you- you don't really think that-" He stops, and closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"Do you really think," he says in a low voice, fuming. "That we're only friends if we _do_ stuff all the time? And if we can't, then- then there's no point? You think I was only friends with your brother because he helped me with some goddamn _homework?_ "

"That's kinda what it sounds like, yeah!" Hiro spits out. "You're the one who brought it up, okay? You worked on stuff, and he helped, because he's a friggin' genius. Good for you. Sounds great."

"Good for-" Wasabi almost repeats it incredulously, but he pauses, and brings his hand up over his face. "Unbelievable," he says, and Hiro could _punch_ him right now. "This is what made Go Go freak out, right? This is why she hasn't talked to anyone since Thanksgiving?"

"That doesn't matter. Don't bring her into this." He again tries to turn back to his work, but the screen is- he can hardly focus on it. His mind is too preoccupied, and he can't just _not_ listen. Because if Go is so worked up that she's isolating herself, too, then… it's just another way he's screwing things up for everyone. Cool. Hooray for more bullshit self-hatred and godawful people skills.

"Of course it matters," Wasabi says urgently. "All of it matters. Hiro, you- you know this is crazy, right? You're-"

"Sure. Crazy. Whatever." He tenses briefly, and- the buzzing red wave is back behind his eyes, and he has to wait for it to fade or else he'll jump up and throw a chair or something- "If wanting everyone to leave me alone for two minutes is _crazy_ , then I'm really sorry, okay?"

"Two minutes is fine. Two months? Yeah, that's when we start to get a little worried."

It's the video calls, all over again. All their faces, crammed together so they could fit in the screen- leaving him messages, over and over, but eventually he stopped listening- stopped opening the messages at all- stopped leaving the attic-

Hiro grips the desk in front of him until his knuckles hurt. "Well, _stop_ worrying," he says through gritted teeth. "I told you, I'm fine. You don't owe me anything. I'm not gonna help you with your stupid physics homework, either, so just- just-"

"Oh my _God._ Hiro." At some point, he moved forward- now he's standing next to him, but Hiro refuses to look up at him, instead staring at the computer he was using, now powered down with a blank, black screen. "Forget the homework, alright? Forget Tadashi. This isn't about him, or me, or Go Go, or- or anything else."

He pauses, but when Hiro doesn't respond, he sighs. "…We literally just want to help you, man."

It breaks through the frustration, and for a moment Hiro thinks he sounds like- he sounds hurt, now, like he's- he's-

…Goddamnit.

"And I don't know where you got the idea that- being someone's friend means all these, like… layers of _owing_ them or- or trying to get something out of it." Wasabi takes a deep breath, like he's trying to think of his next words. "…I don't know how to make you understand, that… we really, actually just want to be your friends."

 _Can't stop hurting everyone else-_

 _Can't stop making them miserable-_

The memory makes another feint, another jab, but he _can't._ He can't think about it. So he focuses on the blank reflection in front of him. "Why," he whispers, not really meaning to- it just slipped out.

"Why?" Wasabi repeats. He sounds dumbfounded. When Hiro finally looks up at him, he has a completely neutral expression, like- he has no idea what to say. "You mean- like, you need a _reason_ we want to-"

…

Hiro lets out a shaky breath, suddenly realizing how tired he is. Slowly, he reaches for his backpack, and stands up, and turns around, and… he can't say anything. He wants to argue. He doesn't want to argue. He wants to apologize. The _last thing in the world_ that he wants, is to apologize. He's lost, and exhausted, and Wasabi's just _staring_ at him.

He can't answer.

"…I'm really sorry, man." Wasabi sounds so genuine, it hurts. He's not trying to mock him, or prove a point, or anything else. He sounds like he's actually, truly sorry for him. Like he wants nothing more in the world than just to make things better.

And then he says it.

"High school must have been _awful."_

Ha. Ha ha.

Some part of him thinks, that's awfully funny.

He bristles at that, but he doesn't know what to say- because if Go Go had said that, it would have been a jab, trying to get him to retaliate and keep arguing. Now, though, it's… it's like he gets it. He doesn't sound angry anymore; if anything, he sounds like he gets why _Hiro's_ so angry.

And Hiro still can't say anything, because he's _right,_ it was absolutely the worst, and he- he didn't know how to make friends, and stop all the bullying, but he always assumed it was just because they were so much older than him, and no one _wanted_ to give him a chance, but he never thought that- that maybe he was thinking of it all wrong, and it's just another way he screwed up-

No. No, he's not going to cry. Not here.

He drops his gaze, staring at the tiles of the floor instead. He thought this was _over._ He thought- he thought he'd cut ties, and that he wouldn't have to feel like this anymore. But that's exactly the problem, isn't it? That's just what Wasabi's interrogating him about, right now.

And he can't say a goddamn word.

"…Look, man," Wasabi sighs. He still sounds so _tired,_ like he doesn't have any anger left. "Why do you think Baymax called us? Back when you were about to go after Callaghan."

He doesn't look up. "Because he freaked out," he mutters.

"You know that's not it. You hadn't left yet. So, why'd he call us?"

"Because he overreacted, alright?"

"You're smarter than that, man! Why did he-"

" _Because Tadashi programmed him to, okay?!"_ He yells it, suddenly, and it _hurts_ , in his throat and in his chest. "He made sure he'd be overprotective, and- and worried all the time, so he could keep on messing with me- so he could keep telling me what to do. So _all_ of you could keep- just- always-"

"Keep doing what?" Wasabi asks, calmly, like Hiro isn't having a freakout moment, and more than anything that just makes him _mad_ again.

"Keep trying to control everything. Just like he did, and just like Cass does, and- and just like-" The memory hits him again, _why are they still trying, why haven't they left me behind- why do they still care-_ but at the same time, he's panicking because this is such a twisted and messed-up way to think, and he doesn't _want_ to think of Tadashi like that- but he does, and he can't just- stop-

"Hiro." Wasabi's voice cuts through all the panic, and accusations flying around in his head. "Baymax called us, because no matter how smart you make a robot- and Tadashi made him pretty damn smart- people still need people."

That actually floors him for a minute. "That's- cheesy," Hiro says through his fast breathing. It was supposed to have some sarcasm and jeering mixed in the tone, but it ends up more shaky than anything. "Come up with that one yourself?"

"No. Tadashi did." By contrast, Wasabi sounds completely unmoved, like he's completely done with Hiro's nonsense. "I heard him say it, while he was working on the program to have Baymax contact friends and family. You know, the one that saved your life?"

 _-Baymax, standing in the corner of the attic, raising his hand like a professor making a point- 'treatment includes contact with friends and loved ones'-_

Holy shit, Hiro's just _wrong,_ he's wrong about everything- so why can't he stop- why can't he listen- why is the blood still boiling in his head and in his chest, and why is he still so _angry_ \- "Well, maybe he was wrong about that," he says, poison and garbage and _scum_ , and it's irrational and he's irrational but he can't stop- "Maybe Baymax was wrong too."

Wasabi's quiet, for a minute. He just looks at Hiro, then down to the ground, clearly still thinking.

The repetitive, mundane, useless thoughts come back: his head hurts. He's so tired.

Why can't they just… leave him alone…

"I don't think you really believe that," Wasabi finally says.

 _I don't fucking know what I believe._

He wants to say it. He wants to break down- and finally, finally ask for help-

"You don't fucking know what I believe," he says.

Wasabi laughs.

It's a bizarre moment- Hiro's been so lost in dramatic and dark thoughts, that he doesn't realize how much a single sound would break the tension and change the mood. Maybe Wasabi's just mocking him, thinking he sounds like an angry, petulant little kid when he swears- which he _does,_ of course- but then he stops. "You're kidding, right?" he says, with a tired smile. Or, part of a smile. Soon, though, that's gone, too. "Hiro, your brother built Baymax to _help_ people. Because he wanted to help people."

"I know that."

"No, you don't." Wasabi doesn't look away from him, this time. "You think there are all these rules, but- he didn't see it that way."

"I don't care how he saw-"

"He built Baymax to help people," Wasabi repeats, cutting him off. "And you took him, and-"

He stops. Hiro opens his mouth to fire back, but he's lost, again. He can't think of anything. Because he realizes exactly what Wasabi was about to say.

Wasabi looks like he's holding back tears. Or maybe rage. "Tadashi's not the one screwing up your life, little man."

…

His heartbeat is thumping, so loud he can practically hear it.

…

He's frozen. He can't think about it. He can't listen to the words, and he can't think about how much he wants to lunge forward, shove him to the ground, just like- like Fred, and- it's buzzing in his head, buzzing in his chest-

" _-what you just did, we NEVER-"_

And he definitely can't think about-

" _-me the mask, H-"_

About-

" _-tried to SAVE y-"_

Baymax is floating away from him. Now, Baymax is- raising up his fist, and his eyes- they're r-

…

…

…

" _I'm not giving up on you."_

Hiro blinks. Wasabi's staring at him, concerned, and… the lab's quiet. He turns around, and starts making his way to the exit.

"Hiro?"

"What." He has everything he needs, he's pretty sure. It's easier to leave the chip and some of the other research here, since the bulk of the work is always done in the lab anyway. Hiro adjusts the strap over his shoulder.

Unbidden, the words jump to the forefront of his mind: _It's fine._

Ha.

"You- are you…" Wasabi trails off, like he's lost whatever momentum they had in the argument.

Hiro doesn't turn around to look at him. He's not… thinking, anything at all. It's all faded to a background hum. Seems easier that way. "I'll see you around," he says, and heads for the doorway.

You can't just… not listen. You can pretend, though.

"Hiro, wait."

But he doesn't stop him.

…

…

…

…

…

…

Driving. Breathe. Blink. Traffic lights.

Cold.

Breathe. Green. Accelerate- thinking, quickest route home. Traffic.

Yellow. Red. Brakes.

…

" _I'm so tired of hearing that… it just takes time. I just have to give it more time."_

…

Start again. On-ramp. Highway.

…

" _And I don't know if any of it's working."_

Windows. The city outside.

" _It just doesn't seem to be going anywhere."_

It's all blurring together- she's been driving these roads for so long, here in the city, that it's started to lose any meaning or purpose. She's barely paying attention.

"… _Or, maybe it's… me. I'm not really- you know. Going anywhere."_

In fact, she hardly remembers driving here. She's… already more than halfway home. When did that happen? She doesn't remember leaving the school campus, or skirting downtown to avoid the bulk of the traffic. But she must have. Right?

" _Well, why do you think you feel that way?"_

The café isn't far. Only a few more turns, and as she approaches a stoplight, another vehicle turns left into the oncoming lane- and it's about to pass her, slowly, plenty of space, no problem-

She imagines losing control, steering failing, _brakes_ failing, colliding with the other car-

" _I don't know. I- I don't know."_

And then it passes by, and Cass slows down and rolls to a stop at the intersection. Just like she's done a million times. Because nothing's different.

And she… she has to wonder, if… if the buzz of worry and paranoid fear that came with that image, wasn't just…

She doesn't _want_ something like that to happen. Of course she doesn't. She would never- she'd never _want_ to-

She wouldn't.

She doesn't have to think about it, either. The light's still red, and soon she'll be home. She can go over the agenda for work tonight, even though she's not directly managing. She could even get started on her own dinner. Hiro's, too.

...

Talking about him hurts.

It always hurts. She- she doesn't know if she can keep doing this. Every time, every week, Dr. Takachiho is asking about Tadashi, and- and _Hiro_ , and all of it hurts, every time, and she- she misses them, and it doesn't get better or 'move on' or 'make progress' or anything, and she just feels _worse_ , like she herself is breaking down-

And sometimes, she feels the exact opposite, like she doesn't care about anything at all, now. She's losing feeling. Like- like she's dying, in everything except her physical body.

It's almost funny. Lifetimes ago, she was afraid of forgetting- a child, crying in her room, terrified because she's never considered that things could even _be_ forgotten, names and places and favorite colors- simply gone, with no way to get them back, because you don't even know what you're trying to get back-

And Lee is there, not much older, bewildered and trying to comfort her and saying it's all right, it's all right, at least no matter what happens they would never forget each other-

…

And now, the awful irony. She wishes she could forget. Memories keep cutting into the same scars, over and over. She was so scared that she could forget, but- but now, she thinks, forgetting is _nothing_ compared to remembering.

…

Oh.

She's already back.

Cass finds herself walking into the lobby, already, and… it's a decent crowd for the evening, so they'll likely get a few more before things slow down until closing time. The brief, panicked thought crosses her mind that everyone's about to turn and look at her at once, like in a movie, but nothing happens.

Someone catches her eye, in the crowd, and gives a small wave. Cass has to think for a second- but it's Scarf Lady, she's pretty sure. Did she ever learn her name? Huh. She probably did, but she's coming up with _nothing_ right now. Cass waves back, but there's a sinking, numb sort of feeling that makes her absolutely certain; she doesn't have it in her to yuk it up with the customers, tonight. Or, talk to anyone, really.

…Well, maybe one person.

Luckily, she wasn't planning to run everything tonight- the manager has it under control, and Nikki's back for a short while, so they'll be fine without her. Cass doesn't have to try to power through, and smile at everyone, and deal with all… this. The hustle and bustle that usually energizes her, the work that she loves with all her heart- right now, she simply can't.

So she exchanges a few friendly greetings, simply in passing. No one tries to get her deeper into a conversation, and that's fortunate, because it means she can escape to the safety of the non-restaurant part of the house pretty quickly. And it's while she's climbing the steps that she realizes, as much as she'd like to simply de-stress- and let herself relax, or stop thinking about everything, or just fall into bed right now because she's as tired as she can remember being in her life- she can't. Not right now.

He's looking around in the fridge, his back to her. By the time she steps into the smaller kitchen, Hiro has a soda in his hand, and turns around.

The scrapes are healing awfully quickly. Maybe they weren't as bad as they looked at first.

But that thought is dwarfed by the awful, stabbing, burning sense of _this is wrong_ that still haunts her whenever she sees her nephew like this. And she wants nothing more in the world than to walk over, and hug him close, and tell him everything's going to be fine and nothing's going to hurt him anymore because she'll protect him _no matter what-_

But that's just a feeling, she knows. Everything's a lot more complicated than that.

 _-and she can't protect him anyway-_

He's frozen, like he has no idea what to say- honestly, neither does she. Maybe she forgot to tell him she'd be gone for a few hours? She can't remember. Smiling weakly, she sets her things down on the table. "Hey."

Hiro blinks. "…Hey," he repeats quietly, and it looks like he doesn't even realize he's doing it, but he reaches up to rub at the rough scabs and marks on his cheek. He hesitates, like he's going to say something else, but then hunches his shoulders and starts back towards the attic.

Just like that. And she- she has another chance, because she _should_ have talked to him back when he stumbled back home, should have- should talk to him, about- but she can't say a word, because he had all that _blood_ on his face, and he was limping _still limping, as he's walking up the stairs,_ and she- she can't- she can't _do_ this anymore-

"Hiro!"

He stops. And he looks over his shoulder, and she can see that anger coming back, bristling like a cat, as if he already knows what she's going to say and what _he's_ going to say. How did this happen?

"Hiro, I-"

Her words cut off, because she knows what she _should_ do- she should demand that he answer her about that night, and the injuries, and- and she should finally talk to him about what he said on Halloween, and the way he's been acting, and what happened with the school, and when his friends were over for the celebration, and ask him what's going _on_ , and punish him if she has to, and try to listen to him and get through to him so she can understand him more-

…

She should be… better.

Clearing her throat, she looks up at him again and says, "I'm not… working in the café, tonight, and I thought… maybe we could just-" It's like her words are broken, and she has to physically put them back together before she can say it. "Order a pizza?" she says, and she tries as hard as she can to hide the tremor in her voice, but she doesn't think it worked. "And watch a movie, if- if you want?"

God, this stupid silence- and the way Hiro looks at her- it all _hurts_ so much, and she can't really explain why. He doesn't look angry, but… hell, who is she kidding, she doesn't have any clue what he's thinking right now. More and more, she's been feeling like she's completely cut off from Hiro, like nothing she does will connect with him, like they were granted a few short months of happiness before it all came crashing back down- like it was stupid to hope for anything else in the first place.

But-

-she still has to try, right?

"Please?" she says, forcing her tone to sound more hopeful and less desperate, like it's just- it's just a random, fun thing, it doesn't really _matter_ , she's just trying to… have a nice, relaxing evening. Yeah, that's it. As if everything's fine.

As if everything's…

… _please_ , she finds herself thinking. _Just this once. Can't we pretend it's fine?_

Hiro shifts his feet around, with his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. "…yeah, alright," he finally says. "I'm just- I'll- be there in a bit." Slowly, again, he starts heading up to the attic.

Okay. That's… he's going to… he actually agreed. Yeah. Okay.

Good. This is good, right? This is…

Cass finds herself just _standing_ there, like she can't move. She can hardly think. Eventually, though, she crosses past the fridge and grabs some microwave popcorn from one of the cupboards. It should… tide them over until the pizza gets here, at least. And, she supposes, she should probably put in the order now, so- so they don't have to wait as long.

It's easier to think about the details, that don't matter. So, she focuses on that, and not the way uncertainty hangs around her like a shroud, whispering _isn't this a good thing? Why aren't you happy?_ She makes the call, ordering the boys' favorite- it's been a while, but she remembers pretty quickly- and after she hangs up, heads over to the living room, to start looking for a movie Hiro will want to watch. There are quite a few to choose from, and- and she looks over to the TV, and the shelves.

-and Hiro's in the living room, right over _there,_ shorter, voice higher, so much younger, shaking his head and stubbornly arguing that Tadashi's _obviously_ trying to trick him, because there's no way Tadashi magically put secret messages on the box- the pizza's not even _here_ yet, and this is just a dumb joke and he's not a baby who believes in magic, _duh_ \- and Cass pays the delivery guy, and opens up the box so Hiro can see the words Tadashi told them to write on the cardboard ahead of time- **"Told ya"-** and Hiro's mouth drops open, and Tadashi's laughing so hard he topples out of his chair and ends up on the floor, while Hiro yells over and over _How'd you do it, you gotta tell me-_

She closes her eyes, trying as hard as she can to stop imagining it. Sinks down. Rests, sitting on the chair, just- just breathing, because it hasn't _hurt_ this much in a while- of course she thinks about him, but…

Wasn't it just a few days ago, she was asking her therapist how it's possible that the good memories can feel the worst?

There's a quiet _creak_ of the steps, and when Cass turns she sees Hiro climbing back down. He still barely looks at her, eyes flickering up and back down when he gets to the bottom- but he _is_ here. Hunched over, hands in his pockets, sidling past her to get to the couch. But he's here.

He's _trying._

It's an odd thought, but it seems to fit. So Cass smiles, and says she'll grab the popcorn, and he just shrugs and sits down- by the time she's back in front of the TV, he has a movie picked out, and of course she says she'd _love_ to watch that one, and- and they start it up.

She doesn't worry whether or not it's a good idea to throw everything to the side, and just have a movie night. She wants to. It's there, buzzing at the edge of her thoughts. But… once or twice, she catches Hiro smiling. So, maybe the rest doesn't matter that much?

- _he smiled at Thanksgiving, too-_

She doesn't worry about that. She can't. She just watches the movie, and gets the door when the pizza gets here, and at one point, Hiro pulls a bag of gummi bears out of his pocket- he must have grabbed them from his room when he went back upstairs- and, after a minute, quietly holds the bag toward her.

Cass is a little confused, for a second. But- but it clicks into place, in her head, because this whole evening, he's looked _guilty._ Like he really feels awful, about… the fight? The way everything's been so uncomfortable and hostile since then? And then she tries her best not to laugh, because she has to wonder if he wants to make things right again, but maybe he's not sure how, exactly, so his mind jumped to _give her some gummi bears, that'll be a good start,_ and honestly the gesture somehow both reminds her of Tadashi and is one-hundred-percent a Hiro thing to do.

"Thanks," she says, smiling, and takes a few of the candies, and his mumbling is too quiet to hear, probably something close to 'you're welcome', before he grabs some more pizza and focuses back on the movie.

He doesn't say much more, after that. But again, the thought hits her: he's _trying._

She's trying, too.

So she doesn't worry that this isn't good enough, or that she's doing something wrong, still. This is the first time in a while they've been in the same room without some kind of confrontation, and besides the drone of the movie, it's just… quiet. The whole room feels dead, somehow, and she- it's too easy to remember how this home used to be full of laughter, jokes, yelling, exasperated and good-natured arguing, and she _misses_ it.

But they're trying, and she forces herself to remember that above everything else. Even if it feels like it's not enough, even if this house is so damn quiet all the time, like the whole building is dead, even if she misses the _sound_ of her family more than anything else. For now, this is okay.

And she pretends she doesn't notice how Hiro falls asleep a few times- in fits, like he's determined to stay awake. Not a peaceful sort of drowsiness. More like… he's hurt, and exhausted. But he's trying to stay awake. And her heart twists, and it's a split second before jumping to _can't help him, don't know what to do, not good enough, not smart enough, he's too far gone, you're NOT ENOUGH-_

No. Not tonight. Those thoughts will probably come back, when she's alone and trying to sleep and the clock on the bedside table reminds her how little rest she's getting, but- not now. Not here, with Hiro falling asleep one more time and his head lolling to the side, almost touching her shoulder, bits of popcorn on the front of his shirt. Cass looks back at him, and gently runs her hand through the hair on top of his head.

There's a lot they'll have to work through. And as much as she wishes he was, he's not a blameless, innocent child.

…But right now, she can't keep thinking about that.

"Keep trying," she whispers, even though he surely can't hear. "Keep trying, okay? Please, sweetie."

One more thought comes through, and she doesn't have to fight this one.

 _I'll keep trying, too._

…

…

…

…

…

…

Wasabi doesn't know what he's talking about.

Wasabi's right, and Hiro needs to get his shit together.

Hiro has long since stopped worrying about the juxtaposition of two completely opposing thought processes in his brain. Trying to analyze it hasn't helped, so he just lets it happen. None of it really matters, because the only thing that _does_ matter is finishing the work on the chip.

Fred and Honey have gotten a little more persistent, with worried calls and video messages. It's kind of similar to what they were doing back after the funeral; except Go Go and Wasabi have pretty much stopped trying.

Two down, he thinks darkly.

He can't afford to spend too much time on that distraction, because the coding is just about driving him insane. With every corruption he notices, and _thinks_ he has figured out, another one shows up in a sequence he thought he already solved. So he has to go back, and triple-check to see if he's _absolutely sure_ that he got it right, or else it'll probably wreck Baymax completely when he tries to power him up for the first time.

Once in a while, he wonders if it's possible he's overthinking this. Maybe the hard-set stance of 'can't make a mistake, can't risk anyone else working on it' is just an excuse so he doesn't have to let the others help. _Or_ , the voice in his mind says, _so you don't have to admit that NONE of this is WORKING, and you're FALLING APART-_ But he's goddamn sick of listening to that taunting voice and letting it ruin everything, so he ignores it. It's stupid. This whole thing is stupid. And it's _just_ as frustrating that even now, Fred and Honey are still trying to call him.

Honestly, he doesn't know why they're bothering to keep trying all this. He just- he wishes they'd leave him alone.

 _Because if they don't, you're gonna have a complete fucking meltdown with them, too, right?_

Don't think about it, don't _think_ \- it's become almost instinctive, at this point: whenever the thoughts get to be too much, he focuses on the project, instead. Run through the available data, determine potential strategies for the next round of work- and of course, go over his notes. He's practically friggin' studious, at this point. Tadashi would be pro-

Fuck. Don't think about it.

Not for classes, of course. God, he thought it was bad with Prof. Kapur, but everything else has been _worse._ Aizawa keeps insisting that 'personal problems' can't take priority over class work, especially if he refuses to see the guidance counselor; and the guy they brought in to take some of Callaghan's work seems to think it's his personal mission in life to make sure Hiro's on track with his courses. For a short while, he tried keeping up with the emails from professors and TA's alike about his late work, and missed classes, and future plans. Now, he ignores them.

Hell, it's not like any of his courses matter in the slightest right now.

There's one challenge. One goal.

Nothing else matters.

Honestly, the only reason he's bothering to show up to classes at all is because, when he doesn't, the gang absolutely loses their minds, assuming that he's Gotten Even Worse- like he's some problem child they have to take care of. Showing up once in a while is at least enough to get them off his back, for a short time.

His phone's buzzing again. Hiro glances down.

…Apparently, a _very_ short time.

He idly wonders why Honey would be calling him on a school day, and the thought brushes against another that makes him realize/remember: there aren't classes today. Break just started.

He completely forgot.

The tram is already more than halfway to the campus stop, so Hiro just sits back and lets his head hit the glass behind him. As the phone keeps vibrating, he tries to process this revelation.

Break. Two and a half weeks, without class. Finals… happened, he's pretty sure. He took most of them. Probably. He even _tried,_ for a few. But the important thing is, they're on break.

…Good. More time he doesn't have to worry about distractions.

Speaking of which, his phone has stopped. A few minutes pass- Hiro watches out the window, absently noticing how the city can somehow _look_ cold, without snow of any kind. It's drizzling, at least, and there's some kind of mist-fog-rain combo that's sort of making it tough to see.

Hiro tells himself that he likes the cold.

He doesn't really believe it. The guy telling him that is a dirty liar, anyway.

He glances down to the phone in his lap, just before another alert lights up the screen: _like clockwork,_ he thinks. Maybe he should listen to this one. Or, one of the other dozen voicemails Honey and Fred have left for him recently.

No reason to. But… no reason not to, he supposes. And he still has a few minutes till the tram passes by campus.

 _*Beep._

"Hey, Hiro. Me again."

…She still does that little voice-click thing when she pronounces his name. He asked Tadashi about it, once, and he said that's technically the right way to say it. He remembers being flustered, because he's half-Japanese, and somehow he didn't even know that. Tadashi just shrugged.

And another memory- all six of them- _"Everybody say Hi-ro!"_

 _-the flash of a camera-_

He bites the inside of his cheek until it hurts, and keeps staring out the window. "Look, I… I won't keep bugging you, if you don't want. I'm sorry for all the calls, and… yeah."

Vaguely, Hiro predicts that she's about to sigh, and say 'I don't know' a few times.

Pause.

…And a sigh. "Hiro, I- I was-"

There's one.

"…I don't know."

Bingo. He considers ending the message, but decides he doesn't really care. "I'm not sure what to… I mean, what to say, because- it's just-"

 _Yeah,_ he thinks. _Keep going. Try to say something people haven't already said a hundred times._

It's quiet, and he wonders if she hung up. The tram _whirr_ -s over the rails.

"…I don't even know if this is really about Baymax, anymore."

Hah. Sure, by all means, keep talking about it. Keep guessing, and meddling, and prodding, and dissecting him like a dead rat. It'll make a huge difference _this_ time, for sure.

But like it always does, the bitterness in the thought doubles back on himself- because he's just as bad.

"None of this is fair. I know that- that nothing I say can change any of that." Her breathing hitches. "It's- it's all wrong. And I'm so, so sorry."

She's _sorry._ Cool. Yeah. That means a lot. That helps. He can feel the frustration rising, making his face warm- sorry, sorry, _sorry_ a million times until it hurts more than anything else, because everything about this is _sorry_ and repeating it doesn't change anything.

…He's just mad. He can't even come up with a more coherent thought- it's _still there,_ even if everything else is complicated, and even if he's tried to push the rest away. Mad at her, mad at the others, at Cass, at himse-

Fuck. It doesn't matter. He's had enough of this bullshit.

"But you can always choose."

…

The sarcastic thoughts die down, just a little. He frowns, trying to listen more intently- Honey's speaking more quietly, now. "You don't have to listen to me, or- or even talk to any of us. That doesn't matter right now."

She pauses. "But every time you miss class, or you show up but you're exhausted, and miserable, and _angry-_ " her voice warbles on that word, and there's a twisting sense of regret that's messing with Hiro's throat right now. "And every time you turn everybody down to keep working…"

Another pause. With a sigh, he wonders if she's going to say _I feel so sorry for you,_ or _you're making everybody worried_ , or maybe the classic, _I just want to see you happier._ Or maybe all of the above. It doesn't matter, because they all kinda translate into the same blank, meaningless static. He leans forward, letting his head hit the glass of the window.

"Every time, I want you to know that you don't _have_ to do those things. You're making a choice."

Ah. She brought it back around. He… the anger's getting bad again, and that crawling, prickling feeling of _shut up just stop it_ is back, but he kind of has to admit that she's putting it in a way he hasn't thought about. And, he- he almost feels like- _she's talking down to him, she's pitying him, she thinks he's just some dumb kid, she thinks he's this fragile, delicate flower that needs to be coddled and helped all the time-_

"So- basically, I'm trying to-" Honey stops again, sounding hesitant. "The point is, you can always choose. Differently, I mean. Even if you think it's too late, or you're not- not good enough, or anything like that."

What. What the _shit._ He- he hasn't been thinking like that. He hasn't- why would she assume that? It's not like-

"I don't know if that made sense." She hums, a sound like she's doubting her own words. "I'm not… I don't really know what to say to you. Maybe I shouldn't be pestering you at all."

Dimly, he realizes his breathing has gotten more shallow. Faster. She's _right_ , in some ways, but- but not- it just burns him that she's framing it like this, like none of this is a big deal, and he's just some punk kid lashing out, and he needs to calm down and realize he's being selfish and he's hurting people, and this is all his fault- _she's not saying that, of course she isn't saying that, so why does it FEEL like she's saying that-_

Push it all away.

Just stop.

Push it away, because it DOESN'T MATTER.

"…Well. Think it over?" Honey sounds a little more hopeful now. "Um. That's… that's all, I guess."

Just concentrate, just _focus,_ just- stop worrying about it all, and try to- try- sift through all the contradictions and figure out what the thoughts actually _are_ , and then- and then- and then-

"Bye, Hiro."

 _*Beep._

…

Hiro has always been able to rely on his mind. He's always been able to _think._

Think.

Focus.

Numb, he pulls the phone away and lets it fall back into his pocket. He's… it's all about thinking, right? When you have to work through a problem, the first thing you do is you _think_ about it, so you can understand- so you can know what's going on-

So- so if you can't trust your thoughts, then- if you can't figure out _what you're thinking-_

His legs are shaking. Tingling, like they fell asleep or something- Hiro almost loses his balance completely, yelling in surprise as he pushes against the window to stay upright. Trembling, in his arms now as well, he slowly lowers himself to a sitting position. Not terribly comfortable on a moving, rattling tram car. He must- he probably looks like an idiot, right now, ha ha, randomly toppling over- God, why does he always have his most embarrassing moments while he's riding public transit? Hopefully no one saw him, or else they'd probably think he's crazy.

Ha ha.

He presses his buzzing, semi-numb hands against the sides of his head.

Ha.

It's funny.

There are _myriad_ thoughts, now, jumping up and springing forward like animals waking up from hibernation, hungry and full of energy- because Honey's call proved that the world's out to get him, and he'll never get a fucking break, because it's all his fault, right? But she's not _saying_ that- but it IS, if you think about it, and nothing he's doing can fix it- but he isn't thinking about Baymax, right, he's thinking about everything else- because he has to- he should- he's not- _everyone's mad everyone's hurt everyone HATES YOU-_ because bringing him back won't fix everything, and he probably CAN'T bring him back, and he's- no, no, NO, she didn't mean it like that, he's thinking about this all wrong all wrong all WRONG, push it away ignore it doesn't matter doesn't matter none of it matters he's so _tired,_ he's so _angry_ and hurt and freaking out and he can't _think_ can't stop can't get better can't feel better _what's wrong with you_ and it's all exhausting, and it all hurts, festering like a wound that's getting more sickly and infected and stronger and weaker, all the time, can't get rid of it, can't get away from it, because he IS it, now, just a part of him _no it's ALL OF YOU_ every time they see him or talk to him or he remembers when- it was better- remembers the group, remembers Baymax, Callaghan, the fire, the lab, talking, laughter, jokes, adventures, danger, Cass, _Tadashi-_

 _Push it all awa-_

No.

It doesn't work.

Because when he tries to stop thinking, tries to push it all away, tries to focus on Baymax and what he needs to do next and how he can bring him back- that's when everything else attacks at once, because they keep saying _just let us help_ , over and over, _just let us help_ , like they think he's some charity case that needs people to take care of him, and they want him to _stop,_ and- and give up on Baymax, and he almost _did_ , so- so he has to be careful that he doesn't- _paranoid PARANOID-_ doesn't let himself give up, even if it's tough, because- Baymax is all that matters. Yeah. They say they're worried, and they want him to be happy, and rested, but- but what if it's not about falling asleep in class, and never hanging out anymore, and never smiling anymore, or any of that _bullshit,_ what if- what if they're _trying to take Baymax away from him-_ no, shit, NO, he has to clamp down that thought before it gets any stronger, because they wouldn't DO something like that, they loved him just as much, and- and they would never- _give up on him-_ of course not, they want to help, help him help Baymax help- _help-_ and part of him knows he should let them, but he won't, and he can't figure out a good reason why he WON'T LET THEM HELP- push it away, push it away, until it's buzzing at the back of his thoughts, gentle and quiet and impossible to get rid of just like everything else- they're not giving up, on Baymax or Hiro or- but he wonders if maybe they should, because he's been _wishing_ they'd give up on him, and- and besides, they already turned on him once, didn't they- no no no that's not what happened _they had to stop you, you were CRAZY,_ so- so what does that make him _now?_

They're right.

They're wrong.

HE'S wrong.

Everything- it's all- they hate him, and they SHOULD, but- but they won't stop CALLING, why won't they just STOP, they're- they're all- they won't leave him alone, they just want him to stop avoiding everyone but he _can't_ WHY and it just makes everything worse anyway _WHY_ and now he's not talking to them at all _WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU_ because they're so… distracting, frustrating, impossible, and the closer he gets to real, quantifiable progress on the chip, the more they worry and push and prod until he can't think straight can't stop panicking can't stop shaking _IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT_ and on top of everything else he can't fucking _sleep,_ he needs sleep but he can't sleep, so he needs more sleep, haha, a scientific paradox for the ages, can't sleep can't stop working can't think can't breathe can't breathe _I HATE YOU_ can't sleep even when he tries because he keeps seeing masks and portals and fire that burns the world into ashes _HE WOULD HATE YOU_ and then he can't wake up-

 _HE_

 _WOULD_

 _HATE_

 _YOU_

The tram stops.

…

…

…

Hiro Hamada is crouched on the floor, back against the wall of the car. He's still shaking slightly, and his hands are pressed tight against his skull. With a start, he blinks and looks up- a few people step on, and he doesn't have much time. He scrambles to hoist his backpack and get to the exit before he misses his stop completely.

Soon, he's standing in the cold and mist again, and the tram quietly rolls away.

…

…

…

There should be some kind of resolution, he thinks. It was all building, and building, and it felt like it was _choking_ him, and then… nothing. Nothing unusual, not even a blankness to help him avoid the tangle of thoughts.

He simply feels awful.

Push it all to the side. That's all, since- there's nothing else he _can_ do. It's not important. It's not the priority. He can _do_ this.

The challenge is getting there. He's making progress, and at the same time the AI problem is driving him crazy, it's also motivating him, pushing him forward, and he can _do_ it, he knows he can- if they'd just give him some time to actually _work._ It'll be fine.

That's not a lie. He's not lying to himself.

If he gets Baymax back, things will get better. Yeah. This is… this is the only way, and he just watched himself have half a goddamn mental breakdown to prove it. He HAS to push everything away. None of it's worth it. Freaking out about all of this is bullshit, so he has to _stop._

He looks down the path leading to the academic buildings, gray and still in the winter calm. He's going to walk to the lab, like he always does. He'll enter, and sit down, and boot up one of the computers. Then, he'll get to work.

…

It'll be fine.

…

…

…

…

…

…

"No, it's alright. I remember how to get to the lobby. Thank you."

…

"Two weeks. Right. Let me just- I should write that down. Is, uh, this same time alright? Good. You- thank you again."

…

"You, too."

…

Cass shuts the door of the office, and steps into the hallway.

It would be… difficult, to describe what she's feeling right now. Ironic, since that's precisely what these appointments are supposed to be all about- at least making an _attempt_ to sort through the tangle of emotions and beliefs floating around her head.

'Beliefs'. Even that word is an anomaly, since it used to conjure up images of solemnly swearing with one hand on a Bible or something. But ever since her therapist introduced the idea that a lot of her thoughts- or, what she considered to be 'thoughts'- might be beliefs, that she's trained herself over and over to regard as true… well, it's been messing with her a little bit. In a good way? Supposedly?

To put it another way, it's confusing as hell. Therapy sucks.

It strikes her as a very Hiro-esque way of thinking about it, and a meager smile slips out as she makes her way into the lobby. For no particular reason, she makes her way to the small table set up along the wall, with foam cups and fake sugar packets scattered around. She doesn't even really _want_ bad coffee, right now, but… whatever. There are a few other people in the chairs around the room, but none of them look up from phones and cheap magazines.

…Beliefs. What you think, and what you think so often that it becomes a permanent dogma in your own mind- what you're _supposed_ to believe, or not believe, and what's healthy, and what's not- and on top of it all, you have to be sure you don't get _too_ tangled up in your own mind, because then you're only hurting yourself, so how are you supposed to muddle through it if worrying too much becomes _part of the problem-_

She feels so, so unprepared. Like there's no way in the world she could possibly work through this. Dr. Takachiho has been so incredibly patient- reassuring her whenever things seem too daunting, and taking the time to thoughtfully answer every question and worry she brings up, but… even so, the whiplash is incredible. She thought she was okay, then she spiraled downward- then she thought therapy would be giving in, and admitting she was somehow broken, then she struggled to even _start_ the process, then she was afraid of her own mind, and now that she's finally trying to understand it, it's suddenly a more complicated and frustrating problem than she ever could have imagined.

The bar has little packets for hot chocolate, too. Cass blinks down at the table, then sighs and throws one into the mix.

Questions about Tadashi, and about Hiro. Eventually, too, questions about Lee and Kayla- but always with polite respect, and a sense of solemnity. She can't even be mad at Dr. Takachiho, because she's… well, she's being kind to her. Like she genuinely, truly wants to help, and not just because she's being paid to.

By the school, Cass can only assume. A more cynical part of her has wondered a few times, whether or not SFIT is grateful she hasn't tried to sue or anything, since her nephew died during a campus event, arguably at the hands of a faculty member.

…Not a terribly healthy way of looking at things, probably. Just like so many of the things she's discussed with the good doctor. She closes her eyes, holding the cup and letting its warmth buzz against her cold hands; you can't just ignore old memories. But you can't dwell on them too much. And you shouldn't get trapped in cyclical, self-hurting ways of thinking, but… you also shouldn't obsess over monitoring your own thoughts to the point that you're afraid of yourself.

" _It feels like I'm two or three levels removed from reality," she confesses, and the therapist nods like she understands- "Thinking about what I'm thinking, then thinking about_ those _thoughts, and trying to analyze the whole thing…"_

" _It can get overwhelming," she agrees._

" _And…" Cass glances up, nervous. "If I'm being honest, I… sometimes I don't really think there's a point, to- to trying."_

" _Why's that?" she asks quietly, like Cass hasn't said anything out of the ordinary._

She stares down at the coffee-chocolate hybrid, and her mind wanders. The café's been pretty busy lately; the whole autumn, they haven't really had enough workers. Ergo, she's barely had a spare second to talk to Hiro. Not that he's exactly _wanted_ to talk, recently, but… it's been draining.

She can't really bring herself to look forward to going home, tonight.

" _Because…" she hesitates. "I don't know if I'm accomplishing anything. We- we bring up memories, and I try to answer questions, but… it feels like it's going nowhere."_

She'll drive home, and check in on how the dinner rush is doing. Probably won't see Hiro. Clean up. Send the employees home.

" _At the very least," Dr. Takachiho says at last. "I'm hoping that you can feel like you don't have to be angry at yourself. And you don't have to blame yourself. As cliché as it sounds- and as_ impossible _as it sounds… you can find a way to move on. I know you can."_

She doesn't want to think about how the café's doing. Or how Hiro's doing. She… doesn't want to drive back.

" _I don't care about me," Cass blurts out. "Or- or how I think."_

" _I know," she says quietly._

And that's not even thinking about the money. Hiro's on scholarship (and Tadashi wasn't, so now that he's dead, they're actually in a better financial situation, and she hates hates _hates_ the part of her brain that even _thought_ that, because it's so sick and hateful that she wants to vomit), but the irrational part of her mind still worries once in a while, that the Next Big Thing can come along and knock them out at any moment. Restaurants aren't exactly the most solid business ventures, and her very career is slowly becoming another focal point of the 'Maybe I Can't Provide for My Family' game of roulette that her thoughts keep playing.

" _I just-" She's crying, but not trembling with sobs this time. Just sniffing, and wiping at her eyes. Quiet._

She takes a sip. Even with the boost of chocolate, it's not very good. She burns her tongue, a little.

"… _I just want him back."_

It's so strange. The emotion from just a few minutes ago is gone, and in its place… nothing. Cass stares down at the drink.

'Numb' comes to mind.

 _The therapist is probably saying something, maybe 'I know' again, but Cass barely hears her. "It's not fair," she says, as if that'll make any difference. "It's not fair- any of it- Tadashi, and everything with- with Hiro, and-"_

She imagines it all like a scale. One of those old-fashioned setups, with two balanced plates, and whichever has more weight will dip down, ever so slightly.

" _And my brother-" She brings her hand over her mouth, like she didn't mean to say that. "God, I- I can't-"_

On one side, a therapist trying her best to help Cass see. Ana, talking quietly in the graveyard. Even some fair-weather friends that offer a halfhearted smile in the café. The hope of mending fences with Hiro, and… maybe even feeling happier.

" _And Kayla." She chokes out the last words, breathing heavily, trying to get the tears under control. "It's like- almost-"_

On the other side, fire and coffins. And thoughts that she can't control, can't re-train, can't struggle through no matter how hard she's trying.

It's like she herself is trapped, pushing that side down even further.

 _Dr. Takachiho hasn't said anything. Finally, Cass shudders and takes another second to steady her breathing. "It's like a family curse," she says, darkly, almost laughing with the tears, like it's all just a bad joke. "The fate of the Hamadas, and- and it's no better for the ones who're still alive."_

Her thoughts tilt morbid again, because she has to wonder- as the one side of the scale tips heavier and heavier, what's going to happen?

 _Looking down at her hands for a moment, the doctor looks truly sorry. "…you're right," she says quietly. "It's not fair."_

She gently moves the cup around, so the liquid inside stirs and jumps against the sides- a bit flies over the edge, hitting the table.

" _And there's nothing I can tell you right now, that will fix anything."_

Cass looks up above the table, at the wall with messages and posters. One in the middle has a photograph of a mountain climber near the summit, and the caption reads PERSEVERANCE- she looks down again. She doesn't want to see what 'inspirational' message is listed below.

" _But I want you to know, no matter what- you're not alone." She's looking up at Cass, now, and Cass can't bring herself to look back. "If you can't find hope in anything else right now, I want you to try to believe in that."_

How, she wonders vaguely, can she have so many people trying to help her, yet… still feel like this?

And if they're all doing the right things, then how can it be anyone else's fault but her own?

She tries to stop thinking. Right now, just… focus on getting home. That's the next thing she's going to do. That's what matters right now. Cass takes another sip, and turns around- not particularly looking first-

-bumping into another woman behind her. "Oh!" she sputters, nearly spilling the coffee on her; she's grateful for the restaurant experience that keeps her from losing control. "I'm- oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't- I- sorry." The words end in a nervous laugh, since she's so distracted.

But it must be fine, because the other woman chuckles, too, nearly at the same time. "Sorry. I mean- that's alright. I- it's no problem." Mumbled, quiet, almost difficult to hear- then Cass finally looks up, and a few things come to mind. One, the look of the woman in front of her is a bit odd; she's wearing a summer-ish kind of hat that's pulled low, and some slightly-dark sunglasses; combined with black hair that's pretty clearly dyed, and a posture of hunching over as if she's trying to shrink away into the floor, she ends up looking like she's hiding from something.

But, Cass also realizes that she _recognizes_ this woman.

Another quiet smile. The woman looks like she wants to apologize again, but nods awkwardly and drifts away, as if she's trying to blend into the background and leave no impression. And Cass can't _think_ , because something so familiar is struggling in her mind- and-

And she realizes two things at once. One, this woman's voice- dimly recognizable, from a few mumbled apologies and a quiet, troubled lilt in the words- is the voice she heard talking to the therapist, last time. About Callaghan. Seeing him every day, never knowing he was capable of something like- like everything he did- and Cass assumed she was another student-

Two. Her face. Cass hadn't met her, before, in the café. She saw her face in the newspaper. The whole _city_ did.

Her eyes widen, and she turns to look down the hallway- but the woman is already gone. "Abigail," she whispers, just as frozen jolts of worry curl their way around her heart. Worry, and fear. Panic. Anger. Sympathy, but- not nearly as strong as the others.

Gradually, slowly, Cass lowers herself into one of the chairs in the lobby. Did Abigail recognize _her_ , in turn? She might have- Cass avoided the news for quite a while after the fire, but she wouldn't be shocked if it turned out that her face was known to the city, just as Abigail's was. Quite a few patrons at the café she'd never seen before offered their condolences.

And now, they're… seeing the same therapist. As if they're in the same situation.

…Are they?

Or _course_ not, is the first thought that jumps to mind. And it brings with it that awful, almost childish, righteous sense of _not fair_ because Abigail lost someone, sure, but she can _visit_ him and _talk_ to him, and why should she get to have that, why should _Callaghan_ get to have that- why them, and not- not-

A door closes down the hall. With a start, Cass looks up, and… there's no one there. She's alone, and- and she should really get going. She- she can't just stay here, thinking, and worrying. Fighting her own thoughts.

She has to get home.

…Still, she finds herself waiting just a few more minutes. She closes her eyes, and tries not to imagine the conversation a few hundred feet away, behind the closed door, and the woman with the dyed hair.

" _No matter what," she repeats gently. "You're not-"_

…

Cass turns away, and stands. Quickly, with determined steps, she starts toward the exit.

She does look back, though.

…

…

…

…

…

…

 _-The point is, I need to talk to you. Face-to-face. I think you owe me that much.-_

…

…

…

…

…

…

Mochi has been an absolute terror, this morning.

The café's only going to be open till one o'clock, since it's Christmas Eve, but that's apparently more than enough time for this _stupid goddamn spastic excuse for a house pet_ to lose his freaking mind, because he's already caused one allergic reaction, tripped the same customer two _separate_ times, and hissed loudly and angrily enough that a small child started crying. He's not even supposed to be in the café, period, because whenever they're open for business, Cass makes sure to sequester him in the 'home' part of the house, with several closed doors between him and the unsuspecting public.

And yet, today, Devilcat has somehow escaped into the restaurant three times.

It's during the corresponding third Search-and-Destroy mission that Hiro begins to contemplate the legality of animal abuse- no, scratch that, completely justified animal _retaliation_ , as well as wind speed, the acceleration of gravity, initial propulsion, and any other variables he might need to calculate exactly how far he could launch a ten-pound cat from the attic window.

And hey, speaking of things being scratched.

The brand-fricking-new scrape along his right arm stings a bit, as he closes the hallway door with his foot and lifts Mochi up to the level of his head so he can stare him in the eye. "You're a useless disappointment made of garbage, and I hate you," he states.

Mochi blinks, somehow looking unapologetically smug and completely braindead at the same time.

Hiro sighs and sets him down, where Mochi trundles off toward the mini-kitchen and starts happily attacking his food dish. He's about to open the door again and start back towards the lobby, but for real, this impossible physics-glitch of an animal will probably scamper through as soon as he gets the chance. And, if he's being honest- he doesn't really want to keep working in the café, right now. He pauses, then turns and sits down so his back is against the door. And tries not to keep thinking about how tired he feels.

He and Cass are… not on 'good terms', exactly, but they're in a kind of truce. He just needs to keep Mochi out of sight and bus a few tables, and as soon as the afternoon rolls around, Cass will get to close the café early and relax for a while, and he'll get another few hours to work in the garage. And the work is- well, it's coming along. It's okay. He's- he has it under control. Yeah, he's still lying awake late into the morning, but… it's getting there. He'll be able to get more done today.

And Cass is alright with it, as long as he crawls back out in time for dinner and the usual Christmas Eve stuff.

Hm. He supposes 'usual' isn't really a good term for it, since…

Wincing, he rubs his forehead, because good _God_ that started a train of thought he wasn't ready for. Hell. Just- just calm down, and don't- think about last year, or the year before, or how this will be the first Christmas without- and they're just gonna sit there, and pretend they're _happy,_ and-

Oh, come _on._ He groans, burying his face in his hands, because it's all sorta hitting him again, somehow feeling like he's getting thrown around in a windstorm and also stuck in mud so he can't move, and that _doesn't even make any sense,_ and… today's going to suck, and he's pretty sure it's his own fault. He was doing okay, wasn't he? He was staying the course, and focusing on the project, and not worrying about all the rest, and it was _working,_ and that's- it's not fair.

He mumbles a few more curses that are more garbled noises of frustration than anything else, pushing against his closed eyes, when-

Purring.

Huh. Mochi is… rubbing the top of his head against Hiro's foot, looking as content as can be. He blinks curiously towards him, then goes back to eyes-closed, foot-nudging purrs.

Hiro stares at him for a minute.

"You are the worst," he says very seriously. "By far. No contest." Mochi blinks up at him, head tilted, as if to say, _Cute. Try again._ He halfheartedly reaches forward to pet him, and Mochi leans in immediately, bumping his pointy ears up against Hiro's hand with another purr.

Man, can't he just stay here? Petting this stupid cat, and hiding out from the customers, and Cass, and- oh, geez, he's now _acutely_ aware of the fact that he hasn't really seen the gang at all, this whole break. Fred and HL are still trying to get everyone to hang out, but he's turned them down each time, and he really doesn't want to think about any of that right now. And every time he has to help out in the restaurant, is one more chance of running into more awkward conversations, because they're stopping by a lot more often- Cass seems happy for the company, but with Go still working here, Hiro can't help feeling just a bit uncomfortable knowing several of the Lucky Cat's part-time employees have recently been at the receiving end of one of his full-blown meltdowns.

He frowns one more time at the pudgy, twitching, nuzzling ball of fur in front of him. "…Guess I can't just leave her out there," he mutters. "She only has, like, three employees working this morning. Probably needs all the help she can get."

More purring.

"And I _did_ say I'd chip in. Kind of be a dick move if I didn't show up, huh?"

Mochi looks at him and kind of yawns, or something. Yowls? Me-owls. He makes a weird noise for no reason, is the point.

Hiro sighs again.

He does _not_ feel a little better. Not because of Mochi. Absolutely not. That would be stupid. "You're _so_ dumb," he says, and he's certainly not smiling with affection and love. "Just- it's honestly amazing." He moves his hand so Mochi can enthusiastically mash his face into Hiro's knuckles- and as far as Hiro's concerned, that's just proving his point- then stands, finally, and turns back to face the door.

Five minutes later, when he's (somehow) made it through without letting Devilcat out, he heads back to the café. It's going to be… alright. Probably. He doesn't _have_ to feel like garbage about anything. He doesn't _have_ to dread seeing Go or Wasabi- if they're working, today, then they're _working_ , and honestly shouldn't be trying to stop him for a conversation anyway. So it's fine. And if the others come by- screw it, he'll figure something out. He doesn't have to stress out about it. He doesn't have to think over all the ways this Christmas is going to be the worst.

He doesn't have to think about Tadashi.

Tables. Bam. Dishes, back to the kitchen. Easy. Tables again. No problem. There's a spill over by the door? Cool, an easy way to kill ten minutes. Mop's probably in the kitchen, somewhere, unless they used it this morning- and hey, it's already getting close to twelve-thirty, so they're nearly done for the day.

He kinda sucks at mopping, but who cares? Eventually, it's done. Cass asks him to man the register just for a minute, while she takes care of some other customers- yes, hello, here's your change, straws and napkins are over there, thanks again. And okay, sure, a _few_ nosy customers feel the need to give their condolences _once more,_ but- he's practically used to it, by now. So he shrugs, and smiles, and thanks them again, and says things are getting better, thank you _so_ much for your concern. It's like an equation, almost; he figured out which phrases and buzzwords placated well-wishers the fastest, _months_ ago.

Tables, again. Miraculously, no fourth dramatic entrance from Devilcat. Clock's winding down. More people showing up for a short lunch, he guesses- in fact, it's getting busier than he thought it would, so between the cleaning and the register and Cass asking for a miscellaneous task or two when things get too overwhelming for her, it's sort of crazy- they were never gonna kick everyone out right at one o'clock, but at this rate, even if they stop taking orders now, they'll probably be here another hour or so-

But he can handle it. It's fine. More customers are heading out- a few 'happy holidays' and 'Merry Christmas' wishes on the way through the front door-

Ah, whatever, _another_ group is coming in, but it's cool, getting their order won't take too… long…

…

Well.

He wasn't being paranoid after all.

Cass is walking past him with a tray of pastries and drinks, so he catches her attention, and-

And-

-Cass is _obviously_ glad to see people enjoying themselves, and celebrating the holidays, and chatting and smiling and laughing. But at the same time, she cannot express how relieved she's going to be once they're officially closed, and she can relax.

Because right now, a moment of quiet sounds like an impossible dream. She has one manager who called in sick, and they were going to be shortstaffed today anyway because she _wasn't expecting this many people to desperately want snacks and drinks on Christmas Eve morning_ , one customer trying to calm down their crying baby, another customer demanding she _do_ something about said crying baby, some guy near the register complaining about- something, honestly, she can't even remember, and all the normal day-to-day minutiae of running the restaurant is so far backed up that there isn't any clean silverware at the moment _and the gentleman in the booth near the window apparently ABSOLUTELY REQUIRES a fork and knife to eat his raspberry scone-_

And it's then, in the middle of the bustling confusion, that things happen far too quickly.

Cass doesn't notice them walk in, right away- but she does see Hiro tense up. His expression has gone- well, _blank_ isn't quite the right way to put it, but she can't pin down what he's thinking. Abruptly, he turns to her and says he'll be working on the dishes, in the kitchen- and he's been such a godsend this morning, helping with Mochi and everything else, that she doesn't think to question it at first. If he needs a moment away from the crowds, that's completely understandable. Perfectly understandable, in fact, because she feels the same way- and Nicki's already keeping an eye on the food in there, so it's probably fine-

She suddenly notices the whole group is here. Ethel wasn't going to be working today, and she's pretty sure Gary said he'd be unavailable the whole week- but here they are, standing in the entryway and looking nervous, while Ana says something to them with an encouraging smile, and Fred's already inside, looking around, like he's trying to find someone.

Hiro storms off.

She's not an idiot, and she _knows_ they're not on great terms right now, but- but there's just so much happening, and she can't just ignore her customers. Besides, the restaurant has become something of a usual haunt for Tadashi's old friends; so when they make their way through the lobby, the same direction Hiro did, she doesn't bat an eye. She doesn't have time or even a reason to think anything's strange about that- with all the help they've given her over the last few months, she can't really begrudge them free reign of the café.

A few conversations with customers, orders coming through, other things that immediately exit her memory because they're not terribly important- and she doesn't know how long it's been, exactly, but probably only a few minutes since the gang arrived.

That's when the shouting starts. And it's when she hurries back to the kitchen, throwing the door open to see- Nicki, by the ovens and the stove, but she looks baffled, because she's staring at-

-Hiro, red-faced and angry, jabbing a finger in Fred's chest and saying something about-

Tadashi?

She's stunned, and almost can't say anything, but then the rest of her brain snaps to attention _Hiro Hamada you will NOT use that tone in THIS KITCHEN_ and she's striding forward, demanding to know what's going on, and Hiro's eyes meet hers-

One of them, Ethel; she's trying to play it off like it's fine, tries to explain, but Cass can't hear it over Fred's rushed sentences like he's still trying to convince Hiro of something, and Hiro himself is yelling right back, and Gary- _Wasabi_ , that's what Tadashi always called him- tries to put his hand on Hiro's shoulder, but Hiro glares defiantly and pulls away, angry, a clear _just leave me alone_ in his actions, fast, too fast, and his foot catches on the stool next to the counter- almost falls towards Nicki, tries to move out of the way-

It feels like slow motion. He's off-balance, stumbling to the side, not looking behind him, and by the time he tries to right himself, he's already falling and _of course_ he throws out his hand to stop.

Cass yells out a warning a second too late.

She doesn't see exactly what he hits- his friends are blocking her view. But it must be either one of the burners on the stove, or the metal pot of almost-boiling water, because she _hears_ it. Honey Lemon lets out a shriek, and Fred gives a yell without words, just as surprised- but Hiro doesn't say anything. His weight fell directly onto his hand, and it took him just a moment to pull back, so now he's… back on his feet, and staring down at his palm, and…

And her heart tears in two, because _finally_ the pain hits from the severed nerve endings, and she sees the burn hit him like a full-body shock, and he closes his eyes tight and gasps a quiet wheeze that looks like all the air being stolen out of his lungs, without even enough energy to scream.

The other two are closer, so they rush to grab him before he collapses. But Cass is there a heartbeat later, helping him stand and telling herself that she _can't_ panic, not right now, because- because she needs to- they'll need to get him to a doctor, probably, if-

- _she looks at his hand-_

Can't think about it, can't look at it, only the- think of what to do next- someone needs to call 911, but- but they're all talking, yelling, and she can't think, she can't THINK-

His other hand is grasping her shoulder, bunching up the fabric of her shirt. It hurts, for a moment- and pulls her out of her thoughts, so she's able to take a breath and react. They'll get him to the hospital. That's all that matters, right now- she looks to Ethel, right away, though she doesn't know why. Her voice is steadier than she imagined it would be. "Start your car."

Ethel nods quickly and vanishes through the entryway, while Gary and Ana cautiously help her walk Hiro across the room. Fred looks jittery, nervous, like he doesn't know what to do with himself- the other two seem resolute, but with concern in their eyes, occasionally glancing towards Cass herself. As for Cass, she's…

…

There's nothing. Not yet. It feels like it's all building up, behind a wall, threatening to break through and destroy her- but _not yet._ She can't think about it. Can't- can't think about _Hiro, burns, failed, crying out, reckless, should have STOPPED HIM-_

So she doesn't. She shuts down, until the world is nothing but Hiro limping along and looking like he's about to pass out, and his friends helping her help him into the car, and giving the keys to Ethel because she can get there fastest and Cass's hands are shaking anyway- and then the world's nothing but directions, as Cass focuses all her thoughts on the shortest route to the nearest ER.

And Hiro is-

Hiro-

He's-

He's almost gone, almost feeling like he's _dreaming_ it hurts so bad, like a half-asleep nightmare tearing at his skin, tough to remember where he is or what's going on, dimly aware that he just- something bad- he's not-

- _feels like stretching out his hand, racing to the steps, too late, and it knocks him back, white light and dead sound and heat-_

Cass is saying something, but he doesn't know what, and his friends- they're talking, too, because… when did they get here? Why are they all in the car, around him? He can't remember. It doesn't feel like it matters.

It's strange, because for a little while, his skin doesn't even look that bad. It's just more pink than usual. And now, he's staring numbly down, and he thinks he can _see_ it starting to blister and curl and die.

Heh. It's kinda funny. Part of him can die, and not the rest? That's weird. That's really- pretty strange-

- _staring forward, flying back, hands outstretched while the building lights up and heat jumps out so fast that it feels like the fire is grabbing onto him, before he hits the concrete-_

The burn hurts.

- _"-ASHI, NO!"-_

He's pretty sure he's starting to hyperventilate, because it stings and stings and only feels like it's getting worse, and he can't think of what he's supposed to do here, and Cass is still trying to get his attention, to tell him something-

- _On a scale of one to ten-_

But it's okay, because Baymax will...

 _-I cannot deactivate until you say that you are satisfied wi-_

Baymax will help...

- _I will always be with y-_

He can't look away from his hand.

 _-Two small eyes, floating through the colors back, back, and away, until they're gone completely in a burst of light-_

The thoughts, and the memories, and the sight of his palm in front of him, all fade. For a single, bizarre second, he feels like he's falling asleep. And Aunt Cass is still talking to him, scared, concerned, voice jumping higher than usual-

She looks-

Scared-

"-alright?" she says, and she has a hand on his arm- but Hiro's not looking at her anymore, he's not looking at _anything,_ like he's… "No, no, Hiro, listen to me-" She's panicking, what's she _doing,_ she has no idea how to deal with this- "You need to stay awake, okay, baby? You- you shouldn't-" His eyes are closing. He's… passing out? She doesn't know. Is this shock, or something?

It suddenly hits her, that she can't do anything. He could be dying, for all she knows. And she can't save him.

 _-never got to say goodbye, never got to stop him from running in-_

Minutes, seconds, hours- she doesn't know. But it takes _too long,_ and finally they're at the E.R., and Hiro's eyes are fluttering but she's fairly sure he's awake, and- that has to be a good thing, right? If he's- he- she can't think about this, doesn't want to think about this, what's the best way to treat burns, burns to the hand specifically, _why is Hiro losing consciousness-_ but now she's the one who feels numb and drifting, because they're moving through the halls and there's talking and Hiro stumbles but stays upright, and- someone's trying to explain, Ana, she thinks, Ana's talking to the doctors and telling them what happened.

So, it's fine. They're going to be fine.

They had to get to the doctors, and- and they did. Hiro's going to be fine.

…She's still shaking.

They take him from her, but she expected that- she follows, and no one tries to stop her, and she's probably still asking questions- she can't really hear herself, or focus in on what the doctor in front of her is saying. But that's okay, too. Hiro's going to be okay. He has to be.

He'll be okay, and that means-

She hasn't failed.

Right?

"-symptoms of shock," the doctor is telling her, and she can hardly hear him, but she forces herself to concentrate until the words make sense. "We're going to monitor his heartbeat, and keep him from passing out. So it's going to _look_ scary, and there'll be IV tubes and an oxygen mask- but I promise you, your boy's going to be alright."

…

Dimly, Cass realizes there's nothing else she can do. They already have Hiro lying down, and- and there's equipment moving, and people bustling around him- around her, and someone's leading her back to the room's exit-

She's stammering, asking to stay with him, _please_ , she can't- she can't just _wait,_ because then it'll be just like- like when-

…

Gary's the one guiding her away, not a nurse or a doctor. The others are waiting just past the door.

"No, I need to- you don't understand-"

Her head is swimming. All she can see is Hiro, Hiro's face, Hiro's hand, Hiro staring at her with fire and smoke pouring from the building behind him-

' _Your boy',_ she realizes in the back of her mind. _No one told them he's my nephew, not my son._

Ha.

It's funny.

The door closes, without any sound- and the five of them are alone in the hallway, white floors and white ceilings and Gary is looking at her like she's made of glass, and she looks at all of Tadashi's friends, and the way they're trying not to stare- probably trying to give her space.

There's no window in the door. It's like Hiro's gone completely.

She's crying before she realizes it, and Ethel hesitantly gives her a hug- and she can't even gather herself enough to apologize, again. For taking up their time, and taking advantage of their kindness, _again._ She can't say a word. She can't do anything. She can't help Hiro- not here, not at home, not in any way that matters.

Time has never passed more slowly.

…

…

…

…

…

…

Hiro doesn't fall asleep.

So, he doesn't get the cliché moment of 'How long was I out', and someone telling him 'TEN YEARS', or anything dramatic like that. In fact, it's pretty boring. The memory of getting hooked up to the drugs and the oxygen mask and stuff is a _little_ hazy- okay, maybe he dozed off once- but other than that, it's a lot of sitting around and feeling like an idiot.

Then, sitting around and listening to lectures. More or less.

Second degree, they tell him. On the worse side. They cleaned it, and bandaged his hand up- but he'll have to do both of those things himself, in the coming weeks. He'll need to be careful with the blisters (that he doesn't even have yet- so that's a treat to look forward to, hooray), and it's a good thing they went for medical attention immediately, since the burn was his hand, specifically. Overreacting is better than ignoring the problem, so even if it was just the burn, it probably would have still been a good idea to come in.

Then they start talking about shock. When Cass is back in the room- and after she's finally let him go from the guillotine-like hug that honestly makes him feel like he _is_ having trouble breathing- they talk about some of the worst symptoms, and what he'll have to be careful of in the near future. Fast heartbeat, shallow breathing, excessive trouble paying attention or focusing his vision- if any of that returns, they should take action immediately.

"So you're saying I could have died," Hiro says bluntly, and he _shouldn't_ have said that, because Cass's hand squeezes tighter on his shoulder- but the doctor hesitates, and starts explaining again, and there's definitely a 'yes' in there somewhere. It's… kind of messing with his head, to be honest. The burn itself isn't bothering him that much, but- he remembers Baymax talking about shock. It always seemed like this crazy, ghostly, untraceable bogeyman, since it can tag along with some other injury or disease. And then it can just kill you. Ain't that some shit.

The phrase 'physical trauma' pops up. And… It's stupid. It's really, really stupid. He can't figure out why he's so frustrated about it, but then suddenly it clicks- brother dies in a horrific tragedy, leaving him psychologically scarred and grieving? Nah, no problem physically. We're all good. No shock here.

Accidentally high-five the stove? Whoa, slow the hell down, because we got some TRAUMA up in this bitch. Time to panic so hard you might actually die.

…Yeah, that's the spirit. Keep making stupid jokes about it so you don't lose your mind.

Ha.

He doesn't have a _chance._

It's a weird thought, but not so weird nowadays- so he ignores it, and tries to keep listening to the conversation. Two to three weeks, since it's not as bad as it could have been. Probably won't scar, but his skin will change pigment and likely stay discolored. A sick, curious part of his brain is almost excited to take off the bandages later and see what his brand-new hand looks like.

There's a very small chance that, if the burn doesn't heal properly, they may have to consider skin grafts- but that's almost definitely not going to happen. The doctor mentions blood transfusion, in regards to a question from Cass about what _could_ happen, but Hiro guesses that's a moot point anyway, since he's pretty much fine. And, you know. Conscious.

He's also told that the hands are pretty much the worst possible body part to get burned. In a way, he's unlucky that it happened. But he's lucky it wasn't worse. Hiro dimly imagines Baymax relaying the information, probably telling him way more about burns than he ever wanted to know.

It doesn't exactly help him feel better. And when he glances over to his aunt, she looks sicker than he feels- and that _definitely_ doesn't help.

He feels like he's listening to instructions for a group homework project. Okay, now, make sure you're changing the bandages often enough. Here's how you need to keep the wound clean. You should probably avoid strenuous activities, for the next few days, at least. It'll probably be good to check up on you in a few weeks. It's two steps away from _Don't leave all the work for Sunday night, because you won't have time to finish it before class the next day._ He sorta tries to memorize the doctor's advice, then mentally shrugs and figures they're writing it all down anyway, so who cares? He's got a useless, garbage hand either way.

Speaking of which. It's his right hand. Of course, it's his right hand.

That's what keeps running through his mind, even after they leave and during the incredibly awkward, silent drive home: why, why, _why_ didit have to be his right hand? Because of course he's right-handed. Of course it was his hand that got burned, instead of his elbow or whatever.

It was the palm and most of the fingers on his goddamn _hand._

And all six of them have to ride back together, since everyone else's vehicles are still at the Lucky Cat. So he gets the delightful experience of having Tadashi's four closest friends stare at him like he's about to break down and start crying, for a lengthy amount of time, and they're all squished together and it's _awful._

Some twisted, sardonic part of his mind is working on parodies of classic Christmas songs. _Hiro's hand, roasting on an open fire…_ Honestly, he wasn't _trying_ to start thinking that way, but now part of him thinks it's funny and part of him thinks it's gross and part of him's mad and part of him can't concentrate on anything except how utterly bizarre his hand feels, because he doesn't freaking feel it. At all. And obviously he's not supposed to move his fingers or his wrist or anything, but he's pretty sure he physically can't. It's almost like part of him is just gone, with nothing left but a clunky mound of bandages and… gauze? Is that what gauze is, technically? He doesn't know. Tadashi was the one who knew medical stuff, mostly. And, therefore, so was Baymax.

He scowls, and he's pretty sure he isn't imagining the way Honey Lemon flinches away from him. Fred's on his other side, and trying very hard to not be obvious, but he's _totally_ staring. Go Go's in the front seat, either lost in thought or just wishing for this day to be over.

Eh. Hiro may be projecting, just a little bit.

He catches Wasabi looking his way, but then he averts his eyes immediately, and… God, this is _so_ dumb. It's like everyone's terrified to say anything, because they're afraid of making it worse. And that's really stupid because, for one thing, they _can't_ make it worse, and two, _this weird silence thing is making it worse._ Sure, that contradicts the first thing, but screw it.

"Hey," he says in Fred's direction, breaking the stillness and scaring half the people in this van, probably, and when Fred quickly swings his head around like a startled owl, Hiro pauses. This is probably going to be too strange- a few hours ago, they were yelling at each other, and before that they hadn't talked in, like, weeks. And they haven't exactly joked around like good buddies since- well, longer than that.

But, again. Screw it.

Slowly, so he doesn't accidentally mess up 'the rules' or anything, he reaches his weird wrapped-stump-hand towards Fred. "I'm a mummy," he states.

The van, somehow, becomes more silent.

Hiro frowns. There was originally going to be a buildup to a joke in there somewhere, but apparently his wit is not exactly firing on all cylinders. Or his speech. Or his actions, because the simple motion of waggling his arm in front of Fred has him feeling like he's about to pass out from dizziness.

No one is laughing. He lowers his arm, trying to stay still until the feeling passes, and he doesn't feel like he's on a ship being tossed by waves anymore. Cool, cool, so now he just made the situation _more_ awkward, which he didn't think was possible. Goddamnit.

And of course, the one time he actually _wants_ Fred to say something stupid, no dice.

"Tough crowd," Hiro says, but maybe also his words are slurring, a little, so it probably sounds more like mumbled nonsense. Okay, yeah, now it kinda makes sense that they're still looking at him all worried. Whatever. He glances out the window, resolving to not say anything else for a while.

…Oh. They're already there.

Hiro blinks, and-

-and everyone _must_ have gotten out of the van, and headed back inside for a second, because suddenly here they are, in the restaurant lobby, and Hiro guesses he must have walked up to the building with everyone else? But he doesn't really remember doing that? And this is bullshit? His head kinda aches, or maybe it's ached for a while and he hasn't noticed till now.

They're just standing around, in the empty café, and Hiro can hardly bring himself to look up from the ground. He has no idea what to say. He doesn't want to be here. He _definitely_ doesn't want them here. As soon as everyone's gone, he's just- gonna crash, probably.

Wasabi coughs, and starts to move past him, and Hiro reads the room when he steps out of the way- they all look like they _want_ to say something. Well, maybe not Go Go, so much, who has a completely blank expression. But the others look miserable. Fred just looks spent, as if whatever keeps him running has suddenly gone dry, and HL has this weird sort of frown, like she's staring at something she can't figure out.

Maybe no one thinks they _should_ say anything.

Fine by him, honestly.

From there, it's a blur of quiet goodbyes, with Cass thanking each of them. Sounds like they all have their own holiday stuff- Go Go leaves first, hoping to get to her parents' place before the interstate gets too jammed. Honey and Wasabi say their farewells soon after.

Fred makes a joke- at least, Hiro thinks it was a joke- about Skyping with his parents to celebrate. He has no clue if they're still away, like they always seem to be, or not- and he doesn't ask.

Someone offers one last 'Merry Christmas' on the way out the door. He doesn't catch who it was.

…

So. Here they are, he thinks.

The lobby's an abandoned, vaguely festive mess. One of the wreaths along the windows fell- maybe some kid grabbed it earlier. None of the dishes are collected yet, since they left in such a hurry, and Cass probably didn't ask the other employees to stick around past the afternoon. There's even still some music filtering through from a speaker on the opposite wall, since nobody had the chance to turn it off. He can't hear the words, but there are bells and stuff. Suitably jolly. The customers probably loved it. Right now, it makes him want to puke.

Cass is asking him something, and he tries to pay attention. "-need to lie down, or anything?" she says, with a look of concern. "If you want, you can-"

"Nah." Uncomfortable, he lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. "Do you, um… need help? Dishes, and stuff?"

"Oh, no! No, that's not- that's not important." Her smile looks like it's pasted on, or something. "Thank you, though. I think I'm going to leave most of it for tonight, anyway." Cass hums a single chuckle, looking at the mess of the restaurant. Then, she shakes her head.

"I can't deal with this right now."

She says it lightly, like she's kind of joking. She probably isn't, though. And later, when Hiro is heading upstairs and trying to remember where he left his phone and ignoring the off-balance sensation in his arm and his whole right side, he can't help thinking that it's an oddly fitting thing to say. _I can't deal with this right now._

His phone's on the couch- he doesn't even remember leaving it there. Sitting down, he flicks on the screen to show a bevy of texts from the group, and… yeah, they're pretty much all about how they're so sorry this happened, and they hope his hand heals quickly, and they'll see him soon. Apparently, all the things they didn't want to say when they were actually here. Hell if he knows why.

He looks up from the phone, and takes in the rest of the room, where-

…

He shouldn't have looked up.

Because the TV's where it always is, and the windows, and everything looks _perfectly normal_ and suddenly he can pinpoint the exact spot where they put up a Christmas tree last year- where Hiro was sitting on the ground, wrestling with Mochi because the stupid cat wouldn't stop trying to eat the ribbons on the presents- and Cass had yelled _smile_ , and suddenly Tadashi was kneeling, arm around Hiro's shoulders, beaming at the camera, and Hiro was halfway cat-wrangling and halfway turning in surprise, so it became the goofiest picture he'd ever seen, and of course they framed it, and Tadashi made fun of him for weeks-

Hiro closes his eyes, and leans back so he's resting against the cushions.

-where he was sitting later, because Tadashi made him promise not to turn around, and Hiro was in a semi-happy mood of confusion because his brother kept insisting that there was one more surprise gift, even though they'd already opened everything, and Cass was finding Christmas music on the radio, so she wasn't paying attention, and then from behind them Tadashi yelled something about how Santa needed some extra help this year, and they finally turned to look and there was a freaking drone wearing a tiny freaking Santa hat floating down from the attic with a freaking Christmas present tied to the middle, and he said _Merry Christmas_ at the same time Hiro blurted out _oh my God you're such a nerd,_ and then Tadashi accidentally dropped his remote control and the robot flew into the tree and got stuck in the lights, and he couldn't get to it because furniture was in the way, and he tried to balance on the reclining chair so he could reach it, but he ended up tipping the whole thing so both he and the chair toppled right into the Christmas tree, just as the voice on the radio was cooing, _Sleep in heavenly PEA-EACE,_ and Cass was trying her best to help him without knocking the entire tree over, and Hiro couldn't because he was too busy laughing-

"Hiro?"

He blinks, suddenly aware of the thick, heavy feeling behind his eyes. He turns to see Cass coming up from the café, and she has that look- the one he's getting sick of, that _everyone_ seems to have, worried and nervous and sad and hesitant and so incredibly irritating, because the only thing worse than people getting on his case all the time is people _halfway_ doing it and taking forever to just come out and say it.

…God. Hiro takes a second to breathe, and does his best to calm down. It was- it was _way_ too easy for that thought to spiral into resentment and irritation. She hasn't even said anything. He swallows, and tries to shove away that… whatever it was. "Yeah?"

"Dinner's ready," she says, and she keeps glancing down to the wrappings on his hand, pitying and miserable- no, she _doesn't_ , she's just talking, and he's paranoid, and he needs to calm the hell down. God. "If you're feeling hungry?"

His first thought is _yeah, actually, food sounds awesome-_ wait, no, his _first_ thought is that 'feeling hungry' is code for 'I don't know what to do about this whole situation, so I'm just gonna ask you about every little thing in our day, treating you with kid gloves like I'm afraid you'll shatter if I say the wrong thing'- and that branches off into a particularly noxious idea that _kid gloves_ is an incredibly poor choice of words, and basically Hiro is getting really sick of his own stupid thought processes. His _second_ thought is that yeah, he's pretty much starving.

But he pauses, because… weren't they just talking, a minute ago? Has he been up here that long? He keeps feeling like time is skipping around, or it's somehow- unfocused. Almost panicking, he runs through the mental checklist of all the junk the doctors were talking about: he's not physically dizzy, and nothing's wrong with his vision. Breathing's fine. So… he's just kinda out of it, he guesses. He's alright.

…If this is what he has to look forward to for the next two weeks- constantly monitoring the random details of his waking life, so he doesn't freaking _die-_ he's gonna go absolutely crazy.

That thought's less funny than it might have been back in the summer, so he clears his throat and says, "Yeah, sure. Thanks." He looks to Cass again, but her attention's locked over his shoulder.

At the living room.

He feels a pang in his chest when her face falls, just for a moment, but she catches him staring and tries to smile again. "I, um- sorry we didn't have time to put up a tree this year," she says lightly. For a second, he thinks she's about to offer that they try to get the whole setup done tonight, 'if you're feeling up to it' or something, but she doesn't. She just looks back at the room- empty, quiet, still, like an exhibit in a museum- and then she seems to straighten her shoulders, and turn to head back downstairs.

…It's another code, he realizes. 'Didn't have time'. Yeah, that's… it's easier to say that than 'just couldn't, because it would be too difficult to dredge up memories of the Hamada kid who loved Christmas more than anyone.'

And suddenly he absolutely has to get out of this room, so he follows. Every bit of sound, from his footsteps to his breathing to random noises of the house settling, echoes and feels like it's amplifying around him. Paradoxically reminding him of how quiet everything is.

Cass apparently has the same idea, because they eat in the restaurant lobby. She doesn't mention it, even though he's pretty sure they've _never_ eaten a regular meal in the restaurant. They don't say much at all, in fact. Moving utensils with his left hand is awkward. Moving food to his mouth is awkward.

The whole thing's just weird.

On a whim, when Cass is carrying dishes back to the kitchen, Hiro grabs some of the other plates and bowls from around the café. The ones with bits of food, at least. The rest can wait. He can only really carry one thing at a time, but whatever. It kills time. Vaguely, he remembers plans to get more work done tonight- but what's he gonna do? Type by plunking one key at a time, left-handed?

…Shit, he's not going to get anything done for _weeks_ , let alone just tonight.

That's disheartening enough that he doesn't really focus on anything else, while he keeps cleaning. What else is there to do, really? Cass is off somewhere else- seems like the usual Christmas Eve traditions aren't exactly a priority, this year- so he just keeps going, getting the lobby in some semblance of cleanliness. Hopefully there won't be too much to work on, before they open again in a few days.

He's seriously considering just going to bed. He's not exactly in the mood for celebrating, anyway. That brings his thoughts to what tomorrow will be like, with yet another surreal, awkward holiday they'll slog through somehow, and…

Ah, geez, he hasn't bought Cass a present.

Huh. It almost makes him smile- he hasn't even been _thinking_ about it, with everything else that's been going on. Last year, he positively begged Tadashi to help him think of something, and when he finally caved, they went to the mall and spent actual hours trying to find the perfect gift. He even filmed a lot of it on his phone, so even though they didn't find something, they ended up with tons of footage of them making dumb jokes and arguing and trying on stupid hats and giant sunglasses. Tadashi had the idea to edit the whole thing, and make it a bit more presentable, and from there they just had to film a quick 'Merry Christmas'.

She loved it.

The memory stirs up an idea, and he pauses as he looks toward the stairs. He's… not completely sure it's a good idea, honestly. She might like it. Or she might see it as an awful reminder. And this doesn't really seem like a year for surprises. He'll think about it, at least.

"Hey," Cass says gently, and he's only a little bit startled out of his thoughts. Time feels like it's doing that weird thing again, and he isn't totally sure how long he's been down here.

He blinks, and Cass is asking something about- a snack? And how she wanted to bake _something_ , at least, even if it's not much- even if they're so tired out that they can't really do the whole Christmas bonanza like usual, and… 'a little bit of festivity' are her exact words, and Hiro's pretty sure he's not imagining the hint of sarcasm in her voice. It gets him to chuckle, and honestly, it'd probably be more if he wasn't so exhausted.

He tries to focus more, as he follows her toward the kitchen. "So what is it?" he asks quietly, slipping through the entryway.

"Just some cupcakes." Cass hums and starts taking a few dishes from the cupboards. "With red and green frosting that's probably gonna stain our teeth for weeks, because…" Hiro sees the food on the counter just before she picks up the platter, turning towards him with a thoughtful, slightly exasperated look. Then, she shrugs. "Because it's Christmas, damnit," she finishes.

Hiro grins.

And he takes the plates and forks, following behind as she heads back to the living room- he thought they would avoid it, tonight especially, but Cass seems to have changed her mind, setting down the cupcakes and turning on the radio as soon as they arrive. Hiro absently listens to the cheesy tune for a bit, glancing over when his aunt turns on the TV. "They'll probably show a bunch of old holiday movies, right?" she muses, and he takes a few steps closer to see if she's right, and-

They're pretending. He knows they are. She's acting like all the little details matter, and like they make her happy. Like they're setting up a real, proper holiday. And he's… going along with it. In a weird way, they're kind of lying to each other, right?

…But maybe that's okay.

Mochi slipped in at some point, and Hiro reaches down to pet him with his non-wrapped hand, still taking in the scene of the room before him. Cass is serving up pieces of the cake onto two plates, and once in a while she hums along with the quiet music, and the television lights up the other side of the room, with elves and a snowman and a round guy with a pickaxe, and something about saving Christmas, probably.

Hiro closes his eyes, for a second.

…

It was gonna be strange, no matter what. The first December without him. But… they're just _standing_ here, and Hiro has a freaking brick for a hand, and he still sees hazy, addled images of the hospital's white walls and floors, and all his brother's friends, looking so concerned and afraid- and he doesn't know what he's supposed to feel. Or what he _does_ feel. It's all a huge tangle of- of-

…

He can't describe it. Like always, it just sits there, in his thoughts, growing and reaching and all he can do is just feel _bad_ about it, and get angry, and…

He doesn't want to. He really doesn't want to. Eyes still closed, he breathes, and Mochi purrs.

Maybe this time, he doesn't _have_ to.

"Cheers," Cass says, and he snaps his eyes open to see her handing him one of the plates. One cupcake's red, and one's green- it strikes him as kinda funny, like an incredibly small slice of Christmas spirit or whatever. Smiling, she sits down on the sofa- and after a second, Hiro joins her.

He looks down at his plate, taking the red one first. "I think that's a drinks thing," he says, just a hint of teasing in the words. "Not for baked goods and stuff."

Cass raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me? And you'd know?"

Hiro just about chokes.

Alarmed, Cass leans over and grabs his shoulder. "Hiro? Honey, I- I was just joking! I'm so sorry! Spit it out! Are you alright?"

 _M'fine,_ is what he tries to say, but it probably comes out a lot more garbled than that- yeah, the clapback caught him off-guard, but that wasn't the main reason. _Something in the cupcake,_ is the next attempt, but it's basically just a cough with a few vowels in there- eventually, he swallows, and his aunt breathes a sigh of relief. "It's alright," he says quickly, before she can apologize again. "Just- there was something in the…" he trails off, staring down at his plate. Because yeah, there was definitely something in the cupcake. In the remainder of the one he took a bite of, there's-

"Oh my God," he says, so stunned that it takes him a second before he starts giggling. "I- you just- oh my _God."_

She baked gummi bears into the cake.

There's a hint of something he hasn't felt like in months, something silly and unnecessary and _him,_ and he can't help but laugh- because of course Aunt Cass would bake gummi bears into cupcakes, and of course she would somehow find a way to make it taste actually pretty good, and for some reason that thought makes him laugh more, and Cass is-

Cass is-

She-

…She wasn't sure about this. She kept thinking, she didn't really get him an _actual_ gift, and this was kind of sad. But nothing seemed really appropriate, and despite her best efforts, she couldn't come up with anything she thought he really wanted- and maybe this was stupid, or maybe she should have done something else, but… right now, that doesn't seem to matter.

Right now, Hiro's laughing.

There's a warm feeling in her chest that almost, _almost_ feels like it's pushing her towards crying- and it might, she figures, if today hadn't been so emotional already. As is, though, she just tries to… keep feeling that. Maybe she doesn't have to worry over it, this time. Or scold herself for doing something wrong, or imagine how things could get worse. Maybe it's okay to simply be here, right now.

She blinks. And she finds herself thinking, that the day's moving strangely- the moments present themselves as snapshots, like she can step in and out. Like it's not quite real.

Blink. Hiro is on the couch next to her, laughing, and the music is soft and lighthearted in the background, and it feels like remembering something she didn't realize she forgot.

Blink. She's calling it quits when the movie's halfway over, and she ruffles Hiro's hair and says 'Good night', and he doesn't- he doesn't scowl, or glare up at her, or shy away like he's scared of something. Still watching, he halfheartedly swings a hand up to bat hers away, with a muttered ' _Unbelievable'_ and half a sarcastic smile.

Blink. She stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, dimly aware that it's technically Christmas already, and tries to remember what things were like last year. Then, she remembers, and- and she tries _not_ to think about it.

Blink. Tired, tired, _tired,_ and- and it's 2:30 in the morning, so she's slept a bit, at least, but she tries and tries to go back to sleep, and it doesn't… doesn't work…

Blink.

…and it's the morning of December 25th, and she doesn't know exactly _what_ she's going to do with her day- go buy a proper gift, maybe, or finish up with the cleaning, or try to get some extra rest- when her phone buzzes with a text from an employee number.

Oh. Not just any employee.

Blink- and Cass is opening the front door, blinking at the sunlight, wondering why on earth Ana Luiz Ramirez is grinning nervously at her a few yards away. Then the words _explode_ in a rush of chattering, because she remembered Cass saying once that they don't have lots of relatives in the city, and she was wondering if she and Hiro would be doing anything special for Christmas, and it's _totally_ fine if they already have plans, but if they don't, maybe, possibly, she was thinking they could spend part of the day with her family, if that sounds like something they'd want to do, of course, and it wouldn't be any trouble or an imposition at all because they already had the traditions and family stuff the day before, so today's basically just big meals and relaxing all day, and she absolutely would have asked yesterday but she wanted to check first to make sure they'd be okay with asking more people over.

Cass is fairly sure the sentence is finished- or maybe Ana is just taking a breath- so she does her best to absorb all the information quickly. "W-well… that's very, very generous of you!" she says. "But I- I mean, we-" She catches herself hesitating, and she's not sure why.

…Maybe it's not a bad idea.

Ana is still looking at her hopefully, and Cass glances back inside, like she'll suddenly see Hiro in the lobby and ask his opinion. He's still sleeping, as far as she knows- and she thinks back to yesterday, and the vague, uncertain sense of hope that came with it.

Hiro probably wouldn't want to. He doesn't really seem like he's eager to meet a lot of new people, right now, but…

"You're sure it would be all right?" she asks, finally.

Ana nods vigorously. "I said I might be bringing a few friends over, if that's okay, and my dad's exact words were- 'Guests aren't _okay_ , Ana, they're _welcome.'"_ Her impression makes her tone lower, with more of a Latin accent, and she falters slightly. "Um, you don't actually know what my dad sounds like, I guess, so that's not very funny, but you get the point."

"Well! I'll, um, I'll ask him if he'd like to…" Cass blinks, and smiles, about to add _but he probably won't, and I won't force him to come along_. "I'll ask him. Yes. Thank you again."

"It's no problem!" Ana chirps, and she suddenly has a folded bit of paper in her hand. "The address is right here, and you can come over whenever you'd like! I mean, if you decide to. Obviously." Tripping up in her words, she eventually just smiles again and waves. "Merry Christmas!"

Just like that, she's walking briskly back to where her car is parked, and Cass is left with the feeling that she just hallucinated a particularly fast-paced daydream. But the address is in her hand, and after a few seconds of thinking it over, she starts her way toward the attic.

Might as well ask him, right? You never know. Hiro always was good at surprising people.

And he-

He-

…

…

…

He didn't have a particularly great night of sleep.

So a bit of a headache, some drowsy lethargy in his arms and legs, and a general feeling of confused irritability- oh yeah, along with the fact that he still can't use his goddamn hand- are just icing on the cake when he finds himself swarmed en masse by a bunch of people he's never met _good God, Honey has a lot of family, he's pretty sure he doesn't even KNOW this many people,_ and that is not, frankly, conducive to his valiant attempts at being a sociable and pleasant person today.

So, he asks himself, why'd he agree?

The house is sprawling, but nothing like Fred's. It's in the suburbs, and there seems to be plenty of space for the dozens of people, but the building still feels cozy, with decorations and food in just about every room. Music is positively blaring from… somewhere, _multiple_ somewheres, and that's disorienting enough that Hiro feels doubly lost.

So, again, why?

The young kids are actually easier to deal with than the adults. Sure, they run around the house in gaggles and try to poke his hair once in a while, and he can't help feeling like they're staring at him most of the time because of his hand, and also his very obvious, very sore-thumb half-Japanese-ness in a building full of… um, if he's being totally honest, he isn't 100% sure of the Ramirez' heritage, so he'd probably say… Mexican? He thinks? But he doesn't dare bring it up because if he's wrong about that he'd look _so freaking racist,_ and that train of thought is making him feel even more embarrassed and out-of-place, so he tries to ignore it.

Anyway, the kids might be a lot to deal with, but they're not the ones cornering him with booming voices and smiles and barrages of questions about where he's going to school, how he knows 'Ana Luiz', and… _hugs_ , again, with people he's literally never met. Yeah. It's, uh, it's a little overwhelming.

And he's trying his hardest to avoid HL completely. He really, _really_ doesn't want to get into another conversation about these last weeks. So, naturally, he agreed to come to her house. That she lives in.

…so, why?

He doesn't really know. And it bugs him most of the afternoon, whether he's stammering through another 'get to know you' interrogation or trying some of the spiciest food he's ever had in his life or just hiding in the bathroom so he can catch his breath for a few minutes.

It was a _really_ kind gesture. He knows that. Honey definitely didn't have to do this- and yeah, he'd probably be feeling pretty awful if he was just moping around the café today, since half the city's closed down and he can't work on Baymax anyway. All things considered, this is probably a good thing.

Standing at the sink, he splashes some water in his face and shivers a bit at the cold. Someone's voice raises, past the closed bathroom door, quickly followed by a round of hearty laughter, and Hiro catches himself glancing that direction, as if he'll see something.

…Family reunions. Big holidays. Seeing cousins, and aunts and uncles, and… God, there are so _many_ of them. His grip tightens on the edge of the counter.

It's like- like she has more family than anyone would ever need.

And it clicks. And he knows why this is unsettling him so much.

 _Some people have a surplus of family_ , his thoughts sing, mocking, before he can stop them. _And others-_

Gritting his teeth, he rubs at his forehead, all too aware that his headache's getting worse. Fuck. He's- he can try to ignore it, sure, but the fact is that he's here, in this house, with dozens and dozens of reminders all around him, stinging, taunting, rubbing his nose in the fact that he _doesn't have this._ And he's working on pushing it away, whenever this shit comes up, because it's not true- not right now, anyway. Or, hell, maybe it is, but he doesn't care, because he just wants one freaking day to be easier. Happier, or whatever.

Hah. Of course it's not that simple.

When he steps out, though, he notices the house seems a lot emptier- subsequently, the few Ramirez-es he _does_ see are hurrying towards the main dining room. A kid roughly his own age (dang it, someone introduced him, he's _sure_ he heard this guy's name a few minutes ago, but hell if he can remember) catches his uncertain expression, looks over his shoulder, then looks back at Hiro. "Food's up," he says simply, before spinning and vanishing around the corner.

Well, that's just confusing. There's _been_ food up, pretty much since they got here; maybe this is more of an official meal, now? And somehow everyone's still hungry? Shaking his head, he follows and makes his way to the dining room-

Which is _another_ cacophony of noise, and lights, and what feels like a hundred conversations happening all at once, and all the little kids are darting past adults and laughing while weary-faced parents try to wrangle them back in, and Hiro suddenly gets nudged into the ring of family around the table, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. More beaming smiles. More questions he can't even hear, honestly. And more… _looks_ , the kind of look that feels like pity, that makes him wonder if they're seeing him like a charity case, pathetic and weak and being dragged along by people who're generous enough to invite him somewhere he doesn't really deserve to be. But he tries to ignore that feeling, too. He's probably imagining it, after all.

But the noise and constant bumping into people is very real, and he's kind of regretting the decision to walk into this room. And he's trying to plan out his escape- optimal distance, the range of vision of the people around him, the timing of distractions caused by shrieking toddlers- when something stops him. Well, three things.

First, he notices Aunt Cass across the table from him. She's talking with… he thinks it's HL's mother, if he remembers right, who seems to be shouldering the bulk of the conversation, with exaggerated hand movements and an eager expression. For her part, Cass looks like she's trying her best to keep up, but still seems just a bit panicked and ready to bolt- not unlike what Hiro's feeling. That probably shouldn't make him feel better, but it kind of does.

Besides, all that said, she looks happy, too.

Guilt flares up in the back of Hiro's mind, and he's not sure why- just about the same time he accidentally makes eye contact with Honey Lemon, who pauses for just a second before offering a small smile and a wave. He looks away, very deliberately ignoring the feeling of regret that's only getting stronger.

She's not angry with him. She's not demanding an explanation. In fact, if anything, she looks like she honestly hopes he's having an okay time. Like _that's_ what matters.

Hiro's face is definitely turning red, but the third thing draws his attention- the roar of chattering dies down, eventually, and soon the whole room's quiet. Honey's dad- again, he's _pretty sure_ that's who that is- says something very quickly Hiro can't quite hear, and the adults around him bow their heads.

…Huh. He, um, wonders if he should have seen this coming. The Hamadas aren't terribly religious, and some of the terminology goes over Hiro's head. Also, a lot of the prayer is in Spanish. So right off the bat, he's resigned to the fact that he's not going to understand this at all- but then Mr. Ramirez's voice gets a bit louder, and he strains to hear the words more clearly.

"Help us to love one another," he says firmly, with a few muttered agreements from around the room. "Help us to make amends, and to ask forgiveness. Help us to _show_ forgiveness, as well. Grant us kindness, and compassion- not only for ourselves, but for our loved ones, and our city, and even our enemies."

Hiro's eyes blink open- he'd closed them earlier, a little suspicious that maybe someone would be checking to see if he's following the rules or not. But the rest of the room is still quiet, and for a moment, he's left completely alone with his thoughts- while those strange words keep echoing in his memory.

Being kind to… 'ourselves'?

It sticks with him, even as the prayer finishes and the hubbub around him comes back to life. And through the meal, and more jovial conversations that he _really doesn't feel prepared for, thank you_ , and when family starts to trickle away in groups, spreading throughout the house again, and Hiro sees glimpses of something that unsettles him- two of Honey's cousins arguing over a handheld video game, one of the teenagers pulling out a guitar and starting a sing-along with some of the grandparents, a few yells of 'Feliz Navidad!' as the first few relatives have to head home. Honey Lemon makes sure to say goodbye to everyone, personally. Something about it is-

It's just-

He doesn't know, he can't find the word he's thinking of, or even the reason this is weirding him out so much, so he takes to slipping away from the main cluster of conversation and attention. And those words stick with him, even as Cass approaches him and asks if he's having a good time, and he makes sure to say it was really great and they were super generous to invite them before adding _but-also-I-kinda-really-want-to-go-home,_ and he's surprised when Cass breathes a tired sigh of relief- _Hiro, sweetie, I know exactly what you mean-_ and he can't stop thinking about them, when he's mumbling thanks to HL's parents and slinking out the door before Honey sees, and when they're on their way back home, and he's staring out the window of the van, and…

Being kind. To yourself. And enemies, and family- it seems a lot simpler than he expected a prayer to be.

He still doesn't really _get_ it, but he sorta feels like he… wants to? And back in the restaurant, when they're trudging up the steps to the living room and quietly agreeing that they're both completely tired out, he's still thinking about it.

And he also can't help thinking about the Ramirez family, like a whirlwind of people. Family, except big and loud and excited and _whole-_ and when Cass asks him if there's anything in particular he was hoping for, to happen on Christmas, he- he can't say anything, for a second.

It's all burning in his throat, too strong to say out loud.

 _-help us ask for forgiveness-_

…

…

…

There's just too much.

So he bows his head, and rubs his hand across his eyes, before saying that yeah, there is something, and he'll be right back. His steps are heavy as he heads to the attic, and finds what he's looking for, and holds the item in his hands. He doesn't come back right away.

He lets himself think it over, one more time.

Then, he stops worrying about it, and walks downstairs, and approaches Cass again, and hopes this isn't a mistake, and hands her the framed picture, and she-

She's-

…She doesn't entirely understand, right away.

"I wasn't sure if it'd be a good gift," Hiro mumbles, just as her heart is beginning to ache. "I didn't, like… wrap it, or anything. And- if you don't want it, I totally get it. I just-" he's stammering, now, and his face has gone a little bit red. Eventually, he just stops, and his gaze flickers over to the picture.

It's a picture. Of Hiro, and all of Tadashi's friends, all smiling up at the camera in a giant group selfie, and-

…Oh.

She knows exactly why he was so conflicted about this, now.

Tadashi Hamada is grinning up with the others, eyes shining as if light itself is beaming out at the world. He looks confident. He looks happy. He- he looks like nothing in the universe could slow him down.

Cass doesn't know for sure, but she can almost guarantee that this is from the day of the Showcase. And again, she gets it- from one point of view, Hiro just gave her a memento of the worst day of their lives. But even though that thought appears, she can't find it in herself to let it hurt too much. This is more than just a reminder.

All that aside, she finds herself nearly crying already. Seeing him, in this picture. Right now. It's- it's too much.

"Aunt Cass?" Hiro says quietly. And she turns away, just for a second, looking up at Hiro's hesitant expression- so similar to Tadashi, and so uniquely, unchangeably _different-_ and she feels like she's trembling, because… no, she doesn't know why, in fact she can barely think- she can't- it's too much, again, it's overwhelming, and it _hurts_ , and words like 'sad' and 'depressed' don't seem to mean anything at all in the face of this monster that grips her heart tighter and whispers hopelessness into her mind-

Slowly, uncertain, like he's afraid he might hurt her, Hiro gives her a hug.

…

…

…

The questions, that she's been going over with. Her therapist. A dark mess of contradicting thoughts, ideas, all burning and afraid and everything else she feels. Tadashi's friends, and- and the party today, and Thanksgiving, and Hiro coming home on Halloween night- she's been so scared that there's no solution. She's been scared that when she wonders if there's a reason to keep li- to keep _hoping,_ that she genuinely doesn't know how to answer.

And… right now, she thinks she was right. She can't put an answer into words.

But she can keep holding onto this picture frame, until tears are dripping onto the edges and she hugs her nephew tight, and a thousand memories settle into place, pausing the whispers and the darkness and the heaviness and replacing it all with a single image.

Just for tonight, anyway.

"…Thank you, Hiro."

He doesn't answer for a second, but eventually, he takes a quiet breath. His voice sounds shaky.

"Merry Christmas."

…

…

…

…

…

…

 _-And hey, think of it this way. This time, we can't try to kill each other.-_

…

…

…

…

…

…

Some days are wild and full of emotion. Others, bleak and depressing- days that Cass feels are as difficult as she's ever lived through.

More often, though, she finds herself in days that feel like both.

The week after Christmas is surreal- Hiro's out of classes, and she catches him trudging around the house moodily, like he's trying to forget the events of Christmas as soon as he can. He helps out with the restaurant once in a while, but after a couple shifts of multiple well-intentioned patrons blurting out startled queries along the lines of _my goodness, Hiro, what happened to your hand?..._ Cass is quick to let him know he certainly doesn't _have_ to stick around. Honestly, the look on his face when Mrs. Matsuda made a joke about _young people, always getting into trouble_ \- she thought he was about to kill somebody. Or, at the very least, flip a table.

He doesn't say it outright, but Cass suspects that he can't get much work done for school, with one hand out of commission. But he doesn't particularly seem to want to do anything else. So she whips up meals for the both of them, asks him how his day's going, if he'd like to come with her when she's shopping, if there's anywhere he wants to go today- and the animosity has died down, which she's grateful for, but his responses are still mostly tired-sounding variations on 'No', and she feels awful every time he turns away from her. Every time he shrugs and doesn't really answer. Every time he looks like there are storm clouds in his head, and he bristles and glares and shrinks away from the world like he has to keep it all to himself.

…Hah. In a strange way, it's easier to keep thinking about him. Worrying.

Then, of course, there's her.

She's trying to hold onto that sentiment- _it's okay, it's alright, we're okay-_ even when the blank days drag on forever, even when she can hardly get out of bed some mornings, even when another therapy appointment feels like it hasn't changed a thing. And especially when she feels like her mind is going haywire, feelings and accusations and frantic thoughts all pummeling her until she can hardly stand to _think._

-guilty, because Dr. Takachiho is trying her best to help; and if that's not working, it must be Cass's fault, right?-

-angry, at Hiro, for a dozen reasons and for _no_ reason- guilty for feeling angry at him- guilty because she's not good enough-

-miserable, lonely, despairing every time she wakes up from a dream where they were all simply _alive_ , and- and guilty for the thought that she _doesn't want to leave that dream, doesn't want to keep living here-_

They float around her like gnats, always there, always tugging at the edges of her attention, and she has to simply hold on. _Okay._ For Hiro's sake, if nothing else. _Okay._ Even if she doesn't really deserve it. _Okay._ Because Hiro _does._

He deserves her best.

No matter what, she can't stop trying.

So she'll pull through, and- and then tomorrow, she'll do it again. She'll keep trying, and that's… hopeful? Overwhelming? Terrifying? Resigned? Or some unholy blend of all four, mixed together like a bad drink and making her so tired and unfocused that she hardly knows what she's thinking.

Is this what it's about? Hopping from a good moment to the next, like fording rocks in a raging river? Holding onto each as long as you can, trying not to get swept away by all the rest, and… knowing that there isn't really a shore to reach, because the water just stretches on, and on, and you can't see an end in sight. That _can't_ be it, right? There has to be more. There- she can't just-

She wishes she could stop the more vicious thoughts. The ones that don't help, and only make everything worse- things like _burned, burned, not again_ and _maybe the Hamadas are just doomed, maybe I'm next_ and _it could have been so much worse_. Every time something new pops up, she has the distinct sensation that her own mind is attacking her, and- and she can't defend herself, or fight back, because… how? What's she supposed to do?

 _Both of them hurt, both of them burned, both of them-_

 _-your fault-_

And suddenly _it's alright_ and _we're trying, we'll be okay_ don't seem nearly as solid as they did before, and she finds herself trying not to focus on anything at all. Just… getting through the week. Anything further than that is too daunting. Hiro has another whole semester, after all. And when she looks back to September, and everything that's- happened- she doesn't feel like she's the same person.

How on earth will she get through _another_ five months?

There's one time, one single instant that seems to coalesce everything she's worried about into one enigmatic moment. She finally got Hiro out of the house- nothing special, just a normal grocery run turned to an impromptu visit to the park, since Cass hadn't been there in a while and she didn't feel like heading home to the quiet and the stillness, yet. Besides, she argued, there'd probably be just about nobody there. The December air wasn't terribly cold, but there were snowflakes here and there that seemed to drive away most.

Hiro raised one shoulder, lifelessly, and followed her out of the van.

So they're here, now, wrapped up in jackets and making their way down one of the well-worn paths, away from the open fields that will be full of couples and pets and families come springtime. Pines, undaunted by the winter air; spruces and oaks, reaching branches in half-tunnels over their heads; even redwoods, stark and bare, piercing upwards and pulling Cass's attention… they're all here, all quiet, like they're a part of a different world. It's been a long time since she's come here, she realizes.

She can't read Hiro's expression. She has no idea what he's thinking. She asks, once, but he shrugs and mumbles 'Nothing,' and she can't bring herself to press any more.

But the one moment is different. When they step out of the trees, and they finally reach the bend in the path that looks over the sloping hill, towards the rest of the city- and in the distance, the bridge and the ocean- and the snow has stopped completely, with the sky breaking up, and the winter-early setting sun is burning lines of purple and red and pink and orange, and she turns to Hiro because she's going to mention that it's an incredible view, but he- he's staring.

He's looking over the landscape, like he's searching for something, eyes narrowed in concentration and looking more alert than he has in weeks.

It's silly, she knows, to even partially hope that a pretty sunset and some fresh air will magically make him more cheerful. Still, for some reason, she's… disappointed? Concerned? Something, uneasy and negative and doubtful, that's pulling at her every time she sees the frown on Hiro's face.

Abruptly, he asks about the blimps.

For a second, Cass has no idea what he's talking about. He rubs at his head, like he's trying to remember- the blimps? The city had them flying, a few months ago. With those turbines? For- for _something,_ he's not sure what, but they… did they get rid of those? Do they only fly them sometimes?

She has no idea. But she hasn't seen them in the sky since September, so she answers honestly: "…I think so. I'm not sure."

Hiro keeps staring, for a minute, but then his gaze drops to his feet. Once more, he hunches over and turns away. He doesn't wait for her; he just slinks down the path, back towards the van.

Gone, again. Locked away inside himself- and all she can do is wonder what he's thinking.

…

Blink.

The days pass.

…

Blink.

…

Christmas snuck up on her.

But she wasn't even _thinking_ about New Year's.

It's not a huge deal, here in the city, but it usually brings a bit more revenue for the café- although Cass suspects that has more to do with the fact there's a large, easily visible TV in the dining room than any inherent popularity on the part of the restaurant. She's had it fixed on one of the 'countdown' channels since early this morning- along with the lovely sound of concerts from New York, live feeds of other major cities, and glimpses of parties so big the _national news_ is covering them.

But even with the slowly-approaching night rush, it's… kind of fun. It finally feels like things are somewhat going back to normal, in terms of the restaurant- after being closed for a few extra days, there are at least _some_ customers this afternoon. Not many, though. Taking an impromptu multiple-day-break will do that for a business, Cass figures.

The excuse was, to give employees more time with their families. All the same, she can't help wondering how many of the regulars know about the burn. No one openly talks about it- but, truthfully, she shouldn't be concerned about that.

So she acts like nothing has changed- simply working, simply a normal day. Not a lot to do. Ethan's managing, and with such a slow afternoon, he has everything under control, and there are enough part-timers coming in tonight that they'll be fine- she probably doesn't need to help at all, honestly. So she heads upstairs, since she hasn't seen Hiro in a while- she's certainly not going to force him to celebrate anything, but who knows, he _might_ want to go see a movie, or grab a meal somewhere else, or…

He's not there.

And her heart sinks, but she tries not to jump to conclusions; there's worry, and anger, and also a sick feeling of unease that's becoming more common whenever Hiro's out of her sight. He hasn't done this in a while, and- maybe she'd convinced herself that he wouldn't anymore. Or, at least, not without letting her know. She reaches for her phone, already thinking of what to say, but-

-it's not in her pocket, because that's _right_ , she left it in the bedroom. She completely forgot. Doing her best to calm down, she starts down the hallway.

It's not far. Only a dozen yards, or so- just a few steps. So why on earth does she feel so… weighed down? It's as if clouds are pushing down on her, cold and pressing and dark, and she can't stop thinking that something's _wrong,_ he's gone again, he's- he's getting worse- he did something- she can't- she can't make any of this better- Hiro's _gone-_

She grabs her phone off the nightstand, and… there's a message. He _did_ call her.

Cass suddenly feels like a fool, but that's nothing compared to the relief that sweeps over her, so strong that she has to sit down on the edge of the bed.

 _Beep._

"Hey, Aunt Cass. Sorry for slipping out."

And he sounds so _despondent_ , there, and it suddenly hits her how awful this vacation must be for him- she's probably been acting like he should stay cooped up in the house, but he's afraid to come downstairs because the regulars will probably ask him about the hand, but he's obviously on awful terms with Ta- with _his_ friends, so he doesn't have them right now, either. And she can't really blame him for wanting to get out of the house.

"Just need to get some stuff done at school. There's a project, that… I dunno. Probably waited too long to work on it already. Be back soon."

Pause.

"Love you."

 _Beep._

She doesn't take the phone away from her ear. Breathing deep, she blinks up at the ceiling, and a shiver goes over her shoulders because it was so, so easy to slip back into the worry, and fear, and despair- and she can't lose hope like that. She can't. Even if Hiro's sometimes- even if he doesn't always-

…

He's trying, she reminds herself. And she needs to try, just as much.

She quickly chooses the spot on the screen to call him back. There's no answer, but she doesn't worry about that- no doubt he's working hard, by now. Waiting for the voice mail to start, she smiles, and does her best to keep tears back- and feels like the weight has been lessened, just a little.

"Hey, honey." A chuckle slips through. "What did I tell you about leaving your phone where you can't hear it?" Immediately, she knows it was a silly thing to say, but now it seems funny, instead of accusatory. "But I guess I'm one to talk, huh?"

She gathers herself, and sniffs. The tears can't come down, not yet, because she has to say this. She has to be clear. "You don't need to call me back after this one, but- but thank you for letting me know. I- I'm-"

…

It's overwhelming, and she doesn't even know what 'it' is; happiness? Relief? Concern? A sense of protection and care, so strong that she can't stop the tears from gathering in her eyes?

"Thank you," she repeats, and takes a second, and… "Listen, you can stay later, if you need to, alright? If it's studying, or- or anything else you need to take care of, that's… it's fine. Just, um, give me another call later?" She sniffs again, but tries to sound a bit more serious. "Let's say by seven. Okay? And let me know when you'll be home. Or, just- I'll call you then. Or you can call- it doesn't matter." She's stammering now, but that's alright.

…It really is alright. She hopes for that, tries to hold onto it- but it's just one of a number of thoughts, all conflicting and spinning around, and she feels like she has to choose one, and she could be completely wrong-

But she has to choose.

It's _okay._

She finds herself smiling. "Stay safe on the tram, alright? Call me if you want a ride instead, or- or if it's raining or anything. And, um, be careful with the bandages, and remember everything they were saying about-" She stops, because that same feeling is so strong she almost can't breathe, but that's alright, too. Right now, this moment, she's alright.

And Hiro's- well, maybe not. But she can hope.

"I love you." And her voice is trembling, but she doesn't care about that right now. "I always will, and I'll always be so, so proud of you-" No, no crying, yet. Not right now. It's too important. "Remember that, alright? No matter what."

She covers her mouth with her hand, trying not to let sobs escape, because this is- it's still there, sure, and she's still uncertain and confused and afraid- but she's happy, too, and she _loves_ him, and somehow those two things are bringing her closer to tears than sadness ever could. "Love you," she repeats once more, before ending the call.

She planned to head back downstairs, and keep working. Help get a head start on closing tasks for tonight, so everyone can get home for New Year's.

And she will. Really, she will.

She doesn't stand up. The phone sits in her hand, and she doesn't let go. Eventually, the tears fall.

She'll get back to the café in a minute.

…

…

…

There's still not too much to work on, so she busies herself chatting with some of the more talkative customers. The few times the conversation turns to Hiro, she does her best to defend his privacy and move to a different topic; if anyone notices, they don't mention it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that nearly everyone has left; there are only two or three customers left, now, and there probably won't be any more until tonight. Mrs. Katsugi abruptly pulls herself away, apologizing that she took up so much of Cass's time with talking, she hadn't realized it was _nearly_ this late- her boy is slouching by the exit, with a bored expression, and she cuffs the back of his head when he tries to slip out without saying 'Thank you'.

So. Only one left, she thinks- and she turns, ready to walk over, about to say _take all the time you need, I hope you don't mind if I'm cleaning up around here, anything else I can get for you…_ but she stops, and smiles. "Hello again," she says. "Taya, right?"

The woman with the short hair grins back, with that same eager-but-oddly-anxious expression. "Yup," she says, and Cass is struck by that same thought as last time- she looks like someone trying to hide something, but she's _bad_ at it.

"Anything I can get for you?" she asks, while stacking the few dishes from her table.

"N-no, um…"

God. She looks genuinely afraid. With a frown, Cass sets the dishes right back down. She's not sure what to ask- maybe _are you sure?_ Or _it's none of my business, but are you doing alright?_ But before she can decide, Ms. Sugimoto takes a deep breath and speaks loudly.

"I… haven't really been honest with you."

For a second, Cass's mind doesn't put the words together. Then another second, and the first conclusion that jumps to mind is _reporter, get out, abandon ship, she's a reporter-_ but, no. She can't just assume that. The paranoia is real, though, and it's tough not to get swallowed up in feelings of betrayal and suspicion; they aren't best friends or anything, but she definitely trusted her. Even opened up to her, a little.

If she was wrong to do that- well, then, she really _is_ alone.

She doesn't say any of those thoughts, though, and instead lets the feeling pass. Focus, steady, calm, don't let it change your expression, don't let her _see_ all of that; and she asks, "Oh? In what way?"

She's scared. She clearly wants to say something, but she can't, and it's not enough to make her give up and leave, so she's simply sitting there, staring at Cass with her mouth slightly open, as if somebody paused a movie. The quiet is unbearable.

Cass doesn't _want_ to be an intimidating person, but. You know. This seems like an okay time to make an exception. She moves forward just a bit, playing up the fact that she's questioning someone literally positioned lower than she is- "Are you a reporter?" she asks bluntly, because might as well get the worst-case scenario out of the way, right? One way or another, she'll stop worrying that it might be true. Maybe she should have looked up the name? Sugimoto, right? Geez, if a single web search could confirm her worst fears, that would _really_ be awful.

"God, no!" Taya sounds absolutely horrified at the idea, and starts stammering quickly. Cass has no idea if that kind of panic means she's lying, or telling the truth. "I'm not- I don't want to, do something like… I mean, I know I was talking to you about…" Her voice trails off, and she takes a deep breath, as if preparing for something. "No," she repeats. "No, I'm not."

And maybe four months ago, Cass would have smiled, and apologized, and offered her some tea or something to help her calm down- but she's tired, and tired of _being_ tired, so she crosses her arms and doesn't look away. "Well?"

The woman's shaking, now. She looks truly nervous. "I wanted to ask you some stuff, about… everythingthathappened," she says in a sudden rush of words, like that will make it more acceptable. "But I know it's a shitty thing to do, asking questions like that, and you've probably had tons of nosy journalists creeping around, trying to get a story that's none of their damn business, and _I_ sure as hell don't wanna be that kind of person, but I PROMISE it's not for any reason like that, and-" she stops suddenly, and Cass is pretty sure she can see tears in her eyes.

Well.

This is…

This is something.

"Okay," she says slowly, and then shrugs. The woman blinks at her, confused, and Cass tries to smile. "Okay," she says again.

"Are you sure?" she says, quietly, like she's- no, she _is_ asking for permission.

No, of course she isn't sure. She's never been less sure. But Cass has no idea what exactly she's feeling right now, and maybe it's reckless, or a terrible idea, but she's absolutely sick of second-guessing everything. So she nods. "It's alright." Squaring her shoulders, she tries to breathe normally. "What do you want to know?"

The woman gives another shaky nod. "Right. Okay. Um… okay." She's absently moving her fingers, fiddling with one of the napkins on the table- eventually, though, she looks away. Her fingers stop.

"Have, uh, have you ever had any reason to meet A-"

Cass's blood runs cold. Somehow, even with only that- she knows.

Taya's voice breaks slightly, and she coughs a few times. Then, finally, she looks up and meets Cass's eyes. "…Abigail Callaghan?"

…

…

…

…

…

…

"Love you."

The campus is mostly empty. Break doesn't end for a few days yet. He'll likely have the lab all to himself.

…Fred mentioned something about a New Year's Eve party, a while back, on the group chat. He doesn't really care. Again, more lab space.

His hand hurts.

…That's sort of redundant, at this point, but still. Three of his fingertips are still raw, still healing, still weirdly numb and hurting at the same time. And the palm, the joints below each finger, the ridge along the side of his thumb- everything used to grab things, because that's what he was doing, reaching out and grabbing something- still flame up with stabbing pricks of pain whenever he touches anything.

Whenever he tries to type. Or use his phone. Or put on a freaking shirt. Or do ANYTHING. And Cass has been pretty consistently reminding him that he _needs_ to keep changing the bandages, and reapplying them even though he's pretty sure it's mostly healed by now- yeah, it's only been a week, but they said 'a week or two', right? So he's fine. He's pretty sure the doctor said that.

So he only feels a little guilty when he hears Cass's admonishing about the bandages, because with the chill wind ruffling his hair and the hem of his hoodie, he's _very_ aware that he's not using the wrappings right now, since his hand freaking hurts every time a gust stabs into it like an icicle shot from the sky like an arrow, and that metaphor doesn't really make much sense, but neither does _cold_ making a _burn_ feel _hot_ , so basically fuck making sense, and also meteorology and human biology in general.

…Yeah, he's definitely trying to distract himself, now.

Hiro forces himself to stop, and turn away from the path, and look up at the SFIT auditorium. The steps leading up to the building. The mismatched sections of walls and platforms- some still holding strong, some completely missing, some partially rebuilt. Construction has stalled, somewhat, but the official school announcements say it should be finished up by spring. Or during spring, or at the end of spring- no one really knows. Hell, there's even a campus group opposing the whole thing, petitioning to have the scraps demolished completely. He thinks they want to put in a memorial instead. 'Two of SFIT's brightest and most beloved', or something. That was their original plan, before it became common knowledge that the tragic, noble, martyr-esque professor was actually a deranged would-be murderer.

Wouldn't look very good on a plaque. And besides, how could you ever look up to someone who tried to kill people?

 _Ha._

 _That's a good one._

He scowls, squinting against the cool wind. After a minute of just staring, he pulls his hood down; static buzzes against his hair for a second, so it sticks up when the hood falls onto his back. He takes a step forward.

…Here, where he was- it's all still here. The concrete steps survived, but everything in front of this spot-

…

He tries to remember exactly what happened. He was… here, close to the first step. Tadashi had already run forward, already inside the building, and… Hiro stopped, he's pretty sure. He picked up the hat. Then he looked back up, and tried to run forward-

Right here.

He holds up his hand, palm outward, with the burn facing the half-building in front of him.

…

He remembers thinking that it _should_ have burned his hands, back then. When the blast went off, he was thrown back- but his _hands_ were in front of him, whiplashed, and he could feel how hot it was- just for a second, before he crashed to the ground. His hands weren't burned. But… he kept thinking they were supposed to be.

And now.

Here he is.

Hiro shudders for a second, and closes his eyes. There was… more, that he can't remember as clearly. The sound- some screaming, but mostly just the crackles and hissing of the fire. There was even a smell. Not like a campfire. It was like… just the burning, without any other scents mixed in. Nothing but destruction. And the light. As soon as the explosion went off, even before Hiro hit the ground… he immediately closed his eyes. He doesn't actually remember seeing the fireball swell, and tear down the building's foundations.

And he didn't actually see Tadashi go in.

Now, the palm of his hand is freezing, instead. The burn stings more because of the cold. Hiro turns his hand over, looking at the bizarre, stretched, almost shining shade of pink, weirdly brighter than the other skin on his hand. Then, he turns has hand toward the building again.

Quietly mimicking the sound of an explosion, he moves his arm up and backward.

…Hah. It's oddly similar to-

- _Badaladaladalada-lah!-_

…

He'd probably tell him that he's not caring for the burn correctly. Or hell, maybe he'd open up some secret compartment on his arm, and pull out a magic spray that heals his skin in an hour.

Hiro looks blankly at the empty sky above the construction zone. No smoke. No ash. Just gray, unending clouds.

…Maybe it's better that Baymax isn't here. Maybe he _should_ have the burn.

 _You're a real Hamada now,_ he thinks, ignoring the twinge of anger that rises up again. At himself? At Tadashi? At the universe that decided this would be funny? He doesn't know. He starts walking, again, and now he's not looking at the scenery around him at all. Step, step, step, with the wind and the empty buildings around him and the way his hand hurts if it's rubbed against the inside of his pocket, but if he holds it out it hurts from the cold.

He keeps walking.

…There's a part of his mind that wants to reminisce about last New Year's Eve. He doesn't think about it.

Step.

Step.

Step.

It's cold, still, and he tells himself that he likes the cold.

Abruptly, he realizes that his phone's been going off- he must have had it set to silent. He takes it out of his pocket, not quickly enough to avoid the 'missed call' message from Cass. "Shit," he mutters- even with the message he left, she's probably not thrilled about him skipping town with fewer functioning limbs than usual. He considers calling her back, then sighs and slips the phone back in his pocket. If there's a message, he'll listen later. Doesn't really matter.

Cass will want him home, obviously- but what exactly are they gonna do? Watch the whole Times Square thing on TV at midnight, even though it actually happened three hours earlier? Try not to remember how last year, they were arguing about that exact topic- and Tadashi had a space-out where he forgot time zones existed, and _Cass_ was the one to call him out on it, and Hiro laughed so hard he choked on his fake champagne, and proceeded to spend the next month and a half asking Tadashi if he knew what time it was in New York-

…

No. He knows what they'll do. He'll get home, and eat, and they'll spend the rest of the evening awkwardly avoiding each other, and when she finally asks him if he wants to watch TV or something, he'll say something about being really tired, and then he'll just… go to sleep, probably. Or try to keep working. That's… probably how it'll go for the whole week. Or months.

Happy fucking New Year.

The halls of the lab building echo. He's used to it, though- plenty of nights have seen him be the last person to leave.

Not recently, though. He's been gone too long. (And some part of his brain rebels at that, panics- no part of this had a _time limit,_ and he shouldn't be thinking of Baymax like that- he's really starting to lose it- he needs to take a step back-) So he pushes any doubts to the side, and focuses on getting back to work, because that's what has to be done. It doesn't matter that he's more tired than ever. It doesn't matter that Cass looks at him with barely-hidden worry every morning. It doesn't matter.

He'll get Baymax back. That's all there is to it.

He doesn't notice anything's out of the ordinary, until he actually steps into the lab. He didn't really hear them talking- oddly, though, he can tell exactly when they _stop_ talking, and four faces swing around to stare his direction.

…The lab. Where he's been working. _Exactly_ where he's been working. Even though classes don't start for another week.

The thoughts are sluggish, creeping through his mind, and he can't- he can't process what they mean. Wasn't Fred going to be working on that party, or whatever? The implications of- of this, of them being here- they shouldn't be here, right? Why are they…

Honey speaks first, while a worried glance and an attempt at a smile awkwardly work together. "Hiro! You're- you- I haven't seen you, uh…" _since Christmas,_ he thinks, but he can't bring the words to his voice. She trails off, looking to the others as if they'll help her out.

…They're in the robotics lab. Really, awfully close to his usual workstation. And behind Wasabi, that's…

Fred says something. A nervous laugh.

And on the counter behind them, with the computers- research, and printouts, and… those are his notes. They have to be. Because- he told Wasabi that he kept most of his work here. They didn't know he was coming back today.

They probably thought the hand thing would have him stuck at home for a while longer. So they'd have more time, to- to sneak around behind his back- to take over the work-

Wasabi says something. Quiet, one hand reached out, like he's trying to make sure Hiro doesn't get angry.

…He's brittle, dry, cracking apart like there's a spark in his mind, in the palm of his right hand, and- it'll set the rest of him on fire.

Go Go tries to say something.

Hiro hears himself interrupt her. "Where's the chip?"

They're looking at each other, like no one wants to answer- and the last piece falls into place for Hiro. "Are you serious?" he says quietly, but he feels like he's about to scream. "You- you guys- you told me I had to take a _break._ "

Fred steps forward. He's talking. Just- words, smile, wide eyes, words, who _cares._ It doesn't matter.

Hiro's shaking. "It's not finished," he says, voice sounding far-off in his own ears, like an approaching storm. "I had- there's more work to do."

Did he walk forward? Or did they move closer- Honey steps in front of the others, like she's going to guard them from him (from him? What? That's funny _we swore we were gonna catch the guy_ so funny, weird, funny, what's- what's happening-) and she's just as nervous, eyes pleading and earnest just like Fred trying to laugh, trying to calm him down and tell a joke.

He's not listening. "Do you have a clue how important this is?" His voice is saying the words, so why does it feel like he's not controlling them? "This is- you could have ruined everything. You could have killed him."

And someone in his mind is pointing at him, laughing, repeating _could have killed him, could have killed him,_ throw the chip away staring at Callaghan _Baymax, d_ -

"-worked on it together, because-" Wasabi's in the middle of saying something. "I promise you, man- we were so careful. Come on, we were friends with Tadashi. We picked up a few things." He's looking at Hiro as if he's looking at a sparking, frayed wire. "You said so yourself. Just a translator. Not even touching the AI."

Hiro knows that's sensible. He knows he's _right._ So- so it doesn't make sense, that it still feels like he's about to explode. He's a second away from screaming, and melting down completely, and punching someone- he's going to lose it. He's going to ruin the only friendships he even MIGHT have, and it'll be his fault- and he'll _deserve_ it- it's going to happen, he can feel it, he can't stop it, he never could, because-

The thoughts coalesce, into a single idea. Heavy. Slow. But somehow, burning red and freezing dark and so loud he can't think of anything else.

…He won't be able to stop it, because that's who he is. He's the one who pushes them away.

" _-never should have let you-"_

His eyes hurt. But he won't cry. Not for this. The boiling feels like it's in his hands, now- and he imagines that he'll swing at Fred, first. He's closest, from here. And Fred will probably be able to stop him, but they'll be shocked, and won't know what to do right away- then Go will probably pin his arms so he can't keep hitting anyone- and he'll be screaming. He'll be furious, he'll be lost, he won't be able to think. He can picture it.

He'll say things he can never take back. Just like with Cass.

There are so many thoughts, flying and blazing and hurting, but the only one that speaks is, "It's not some project for finals. It's _Baymax_."

Go Go tries to say something, and it starts with _we know_ \- and he's going to scream at them, shove them away, he won't listen- he can't- because they didn't _know_ him, they didn't grow up with him, they didn't talk to him about dying, and hating himself, and the way he sometimes couldn't eat lunch because the fist-shaped bruises on his stomach hurt too much, and the bullies were still laughing- and they never had to sit down and explain to him _he's dead, Baymax, he's not coming back_ , and they didn't have to watch him falling away through the portal and his eyes close until the light was so bright he couldn't see him anymore- had to close his eyes with the flash of white light- against the harsh orange of the explosion- and he doesn't know if he's thinking of Baymax or Tadashi anymore, but he misses them so much that it feels like the entire world is pressing down on his shoulders, but never enough to crush him completely, so he's just trapped here, always trapped, and he can't- he can't-

He can't hear what they're saying. Wasabi is speaking, but- Hiro grits his teeth, and tries to _force_ back the buzzing in his ears, the red-hot anger that's so consuming and so intertwined with everything else that it's all he can _think_ about right now- and he's breathing, he's fine, he's breathing, but that's all he can do.

Wasabi puts his hand on his shoulder.

Every instinct in him screams to lash out, to break down, to push him away hit him hurt him _just like Fred, just like Callaghan, just like Cass_ and Hiro can't even look up- because if he looks up at Wasabi he'll lose it, and he won't be able to really _see_ him-

"-you okay?" he asks, quietly, and Hiro can't respond, so he just closes his eyes again, and tries to get the shaking under control.

He can't even focus in on what's happening.

He doesn't even know what's wrong, exactly.

…He's tired.

There's a pause, like Wasabi's trying to decide what to say- then- "Hiro. Listen, man, you- No matter what happens, you aren't alone. We're here for you. I'll tell you as many times as it takes."

They still want to help him.

They shouldn't, though. It's a disconnect in his brain- why are they still trying? Even after- he doesn't _need_ them, he- he shouldn't- he doesn't _deserve-_

Go Go says something, again, but the burning is back- behind his eyes, in his ears, in his mind- he's cursed- he's doomed- it's all just fire, and there's nothing he can do to put it out.

He's going to break. He's holding it together, right now, but he's on the edge. He wonders if this is what his aunt felt like, on Halloween night.

Only, he's pretty sure he wouldn't stop his fist in time. He can almost _feel_ it, bubbling up inside him like magma- he's so angry he can't _breathe_ \- and it feels as dark as it felt when he swore he'd go after the masked man, when he first lied and told Baymax that fighting would keep him safe, when he- when-

" _Baymax, d-"_

"Hey."

He nearly jumps, because Go Go's closer now, and he can actually hear her. The dark falls back, for a second, and he can at least turn to look at her without incident. She hesitates, then glances to the floor, then nods toward the computer. "It's, uh… it's finished, more or less," she mumbles.

…

…

…

No, it isn't. It can't be.

He can't say anything, still. And he's staring in that direction, frozen, but- but the thoughts fit together, without him really trying. If they… were able to put together an adaptor, like he was planning to- because he told Wasabi that most of his work was here- and he was going to use the lab computers anyway- and Wasabi said that… Tadashi shared some of his original work with him, back when he was creating Baymax-

He steps forward, and cautiously makes his way to the computer. The others shift around him- Fred with a bounce in his step, Wasabi removing his hand, Honey trying to give him an encouraging smile. Go Go simply watches him, like she's trying to decide something.

Sure enough, there's a scanner and adaptor hooked up to various wires, all leading to the computer itself. There's already a file open, on the desktop. "It's a little rushed," Wasabi says quietly. "And you knew there was some damage, already. But…"

Hiro sits down, fingers over the keyboard.

"It's a start," Fred finishes, looking back and forth between Hiro and the computer screen.

Still shaking, Hiro swallows and moves the chair closer. A program is open, and a command is ready to go, with the words **BEGIN? Y/N** flashing across the top of the screen.

Honey squeezes his elbow with a smile, and he types the command.

 _Y_

…

…

…

 **-Hel-o-**

His breath catches.

 **-I-**

 **-am-**

 **-B—ma—**

 **-your-**

 **-p-rsona—**

 **-hea—hcare**

 **-com-anion-**

The words appear slowly, glitched and in the wrong order. But there are already tears back in his eyes. Almost reverently, feeling afraid that he'll break some kind of spell, he starts to type.

 _It's me_

 _Hiro_

…

…

…

 **-He-lo-**

 **-Hiro-**

He's frozen, still staring at the screen. And he can't get his hopes up, he _can't,_ because this isn't a guarantee. This doesn't mean he's back. The programs could be damaged, or wiped clean, and this could be a brand new version of Baymax. He starts typing again.

 _Do you remember?_

The cursor is flashing, waiting- and then the lines that appear are corrupted, nonsensical, blurs of letters and numbers. Hiro jolts as the text begins to scroll so fast that the screen can barely keep up. "No," he says under his breath, then again, and again- "Baymax, you-" He wants to keep typing, wants to try entering a code that will stop it, but it might only corrupt things even more, so he _can't-_ and the others aren't saying anything, they're just standing there, helpless, watching the screen…

Until it stops.

 **...**

…

…

 **-Is-**

 **-Ab-gail-**

 **-alr-ght-**

Hiro closes his eyes, because if he doesn't, he won't be able to look at the screen anyway.

Behind him, he's pretty sure Fred gives a cheer, before Wasabi smacks him in the arm for ruining the moment; Honey's so happy she hugs him around the shoulders again. Finally, he reaches out with shaking hands.

 _Yeah_

 _yeah Abigail's fine_

 _you saved her_

 _you did it_

 _she's safe_

The others might be talking, but he barely hears them. He lets himself look at the screen, waiting for the words to register. He has no idea how much time they have- for all he knows, the corrupted data could cause Baymax's dialogue software to glitch out at any moment.

Slowly, though, more words appear.

 **-Are-**

 **-you-**

 **-a-right-**

For a moment, he's numb. He has no idea what to say. His hands are shaking more. He suddenly notices that his friends are quiet, behind him.

Even after everything, Baymax is still…

Honey squeezes his arm, probably trying to comfort him, and he closes his eyes again when the tears really start. He- he types out one more sentence, and enters it, and his eyes are blurred, and he can't see the screen anymore-

He breaks.

The sobs are pulling at his throat, violently pulling his breath from him with ugly sounds, and Honey pulls him closer into a hug.

For a moment, the dark is lighter. The red burns less. It's quieter.

…

…

…

 _I miss you buddy_


End file.
